Dust
by In Dreams
Summary: Hermione has come to the town of Kingswood for a change of scenery, and hopefully, some easy money. But a notorious outlaw runs the crime scene in town, and he isn't interested in sharing. A Dramione Wild West AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note _:_** Hello and welcome to Dust! This is a **Wild West AU (Alternate Universe)**. Dust will act as an anthology or collection of short stories. Each segment will be stand-alone, but connected in chronological order. I hope you enjoy it, and would love to hear what you think!

 **Please note:** Given this is a non-magic AU, the characters will have different back stories, and in some cases, may seem slightly out of character in regards to their interactions with one another.

 **Content Warnings:** Alcohol consumption, non-explicit violence, and sexual content, including smut. Please take this as your warning for the entirety of this fic.

Thanks to my lovely alpha, Kyonomiko.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

 _ **Part I: Kingswood**_

Draco glanced up at the cloud of dust that billowed into town, carrying with it a solo rider. He hesitated at the sight, his hand stilling where it had been polishing his pistol with a handkerchief. Although it had once been a lucrative trade crossing, so few people arrived in Kingswood these days.

His grey eyes squinted as the dust settled and he could see the rider – female, by the way she held herself as she dismounted from a pitch black mare. Keen eyes gazed around the town as she yanked down the bandana down that covered her face. She wore all black, from the spurs on her boots to the stetson perched low on a riotous head of curls.

Draco watched from his seated vantage atop the roof of the general store, and quickly stowed the handkerchief in a pocket, returning his pistol to the holster at his hip. A slow smirk curled onto his lips as he watched while she tied up the mare, and the way her tight trousers clung to her legs and hips suggested she might be someone Draco wanted to get to know.

He rose to his feet, adjusting his own stetson lower over his eyes, and he scaled down the building, his boots landing hard on the packed earth as he dropped from halfway.

The day might be interesting, after all.

* * *

Hermione offered a tight smile and a silver to the small boy who announced he would bathe and feed her horse. She knew boys like this from home, and valued his initiative.

Her eyes narrowed as they swept the length of the street, calculating. A handful of people lingered in the streets, and a loud ruckus came from the upper level of a nearby building. She had heard of Kingswood plenty, and of its certain type of monetary _assets_ , but she had never made the journey.

And after four days in the scorching, unforgiving wilds, subsisting on a diet of dust and cured meats, her mouth watered at the thought of a mug at the saloon down the road. With a last look to be sure her horse was being adequately cared for, she ventured down the street.

Her gaze swung to the approach of a tall stranger, a black hat covering his eyes, but she could see the pale blond hair beneath it, the golden scruff on his jaw. Her eyes flickered to the pair of Colt pistols holstered at his sides and she allowed a brief smile to cross her face.

"You must be new here," the stranger drawled, glancing up, though his eyes were still in shadow.

"Might be," she hedged, scanning the details of his form, his stance. "Or maybe I just don't tend to draw attention to myself."

The man chuckled, his lips settling into a smirk. "I know I would remember you if I'd seen you before. What's your name?"

Hermione bristled at the forward sentiment, but offered a disarming smile. "My name isn't important." When he looked up, his grey eyes finally settling on hers, she continued. " _You_ on the other hand – I've heard all about you."

He tilted his head in a cocky sort of way.

"Oh, have you?" he asked, and his gaze on her felt hot and rakish.

"Absolutely," Hermione murmured, nodding. "Your notoriety is well known. _Infamy_ , one might say. Double-Draw Draco – the man _so fast_ with a pistol he can draw twice before an opponent can draw once." She threw his own smirk back at him. "They say everyone must see it in their lifetime – that it's _legendary_."

She could _feel_ the self-satisfaction pouring off of him. She nearly rolled her eyes.

"Well, if that's what _they_ say…" he drawled, flashing a crooked grin.

"And you know what _I_ say?" she asked, hard gaze flashing to his. "I say, you must not have any worthy opponents around here, if they're all _so slow_."

The grin fell from his face, and his gaze flickered to the pistol at her hip. A brow raised as his chin lowered, and he took a step closer.

"And _you're_ that much better?" he asked, his voice low. "You never told me your name."

"You wouldn't know it," she said, already growing irritable with his swagger and haughty countenance.

"But yet you think you could beat me in a draw," he intoned, his jaw clenched. He snickered in an unfriendly sort of way. "If I've never heard of you, you can't be very good."

"You must be right," Hermione huffed, giving in the urge to roll her eyes. She intentionally knocked the sack of gold at her waist, its contents clanking impressively. His brows flickered as his eyes followed the sound. "Seems to me there are more important factors in being a successful outlaw than being widely known. Like skill and _stealth_ and – oh, I must be speaking a language you don't understand."

His eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"It seems to _me_ , you must not know all about me, then," he retorted. "If you think I don't do well enough for myself."

"Right," Hermione said, sighing. Her eyes flickered longingly to the saloon again. "I'm off for an ale. But tell me – how's the town, Triple-D? Plenty of gold for the taking?"

He froze, his gaze hard on her. "If that's why you're here in Kingswood, you'd best turn around and leave town."

"Kingswood seems more than big enough for the two of us," she said, standing firm.

"It isn't," he hissed, stalking a step closer. "And if you _don't_ leave –" he hesitated before adjusting his hat. "Well, you've been warned."

Hermione snickered, and his narrowed gaze remained fixed on hers. "I'll keep that in mind. See you around, Triple-D."

He opened his mouth to say something more, but his teeth snapped shut with a click. He merely fixed her with another penetrating stare, this one considerably colder, as she turned and walked off, her hand hovering beside her pistol as a warning.

He didn't follow.

* * *

Hermione glanced around the saloon, nursing her drink. She had been in Kingswood a week, and the saloon definitely seemed to be where most of the action in town occurred.

She had spent most of the week seamlessly integrating herself into the fabric of the town, observing its people, and scoping out any possible targets. She had been staying in a room at the inn above the saloon, and had been able to learn a lot.

Like how the sheriff – a bespectacled man with scruffy black hair and piercing green eyes – would stop by twice a day to ensure the peace. Like how the wealthiest residents of Kingswood lived along the east side of town beyond the outskirts. How the bank was surprisingly well protected.

She had plenty of money, but she would need to find a solid lead soon in order for it to be worth staying in Kingswood much longer.

Hermione suspected the bandit she had met on her first day in town – the incorrigible Double-Draw – was making things difficult for her. Or else, he was merely quick to any potential prospects.

She had caught him staring at her from across the saloon more than once, and had felt a shiver creep down the length of her spine at the feel of his narrowed grey eyes on her. He certainly wasn't unattractive, but his boisterous personality pushed her in the opposite direction.

And she definitely wasn't looking for any attachments in Kingswood, especially not with someone who she considered her only viable competition.

"Have you got a problem?" she asked, sipping from her drink as she glanced sidelong at him, two stools down at the bar.

"No problem at all," he responded, his tone too light to be believable. "You? Are you finding Kingswood to your _liking_?"

Her eyes narrowed in response. "Kingswood is just fine, thanks."

His brows flickered, and she caught the trace of a smirk on his features. She kept her expression carefully blank.

"Ah, good," he said, nodding. "I was worried you had been finding it too… slow for your taste. It can be a very _dull_ town."

"The people certainly seem dull," Hermione quipped, glancing pointedly at him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmured, turning to face her. His gaze flickered to the clock on the wall and he slammed his empty mug on the bartop. His tongue swept the front of his teeth as his eyes settled on her again. "You can always find me if you're looking for some… excitement."

"I won't be, but thanks," Hermione said, taking another sip of her drink.

He snickered and rose from his seat. "Well, it's been riveting, nameless stranger. Enjoy Kingswood." He pulled his bandana up over his nose and was gone.

He had scarcely vacated the seat before it was taken by the man she had come to recognize as the sheriff. Surprised, she glanced around the saloon but Double-Draw had vanished. Her eyes settled on the sheriff's badge, pinned proudly to his chest.

"Hello," she managed, taking a sip of her drink.

"Hello there," the sheriff replied cheerily, flashing her a grin. "I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Sheriff Potter."

"My name is Hermione," she responded, feigning an innocuous smile. "I've found Kingswood to be a lovely town."

"We do our best to keep everything running smoothly," the sheriff said, with a bashful sort of smile that seemed fake, and intended to disarm.

She tensed, wondering what he knew about her. She would hunt down Double-Draw herself.

"You do a wonderful job," she said, taking another sip of her drink.

"What brings you to Kingswood?" Sheriff Potter asked, his green eyes bright as they met hers.

"Simply a traveler looking for a place to settle," she said, replicating his smile. "I have heard so many things about Kingswood, I thought perhaps it would be a good place for a new start."

"Indeed," Potter mused, his overlong gaze making her uncomfortable.

Hermione finished her drink and left a few coins on the bar, flashing the sheriff another quick smile. "I've got to carry on, I'm afraid. Enjoy the rest of your day, Sheriff."

"The same to you," the sheriff said with a tilt to his head.

She rose from her seat, her hand nearly flinching to her pistol when the sheriff shifted his barstool against the floor. She released a careful breath and made her way out of the saloon, mentally marking the time.

Double-Draw had obviously known the sheriff would be along. Gritting her teeth, her gaze flickered around the darkening street as she walked, certain he would be watching her. It was the last time Double-Draw Draco would get the better of her.

She kept walking, her pace quickening in the chill breeze, making for where her horse was tied up. As she prepared and mounted the mare, feeling her heart rate settle, Hermione fixed her bandana and flew from the edge of Kingswood in a cloud of dust.

* * *

It had been a good haul. Hermione checked the last of the drawers and cupboards, her hands deftly searching for any hidden compartments, but she wasn't expecting to find much more beyond the hidden stash of gold and silver she had found in the bedroom.

Certainly enough to merit a continued stay in Kingswood.

It would have been enough for the fact that the trip had been particularly lucrative, but an added bonus was that she had obviously beaten Double-Draw to the tip.

She needn't have worried that she might get lost on the way, given the modest home was beyond the borders of Kingswood, and rather in the middle of nowhere.

Securing her bags and weapons in place, Hermione stopped on her way to the door as it rattled. She froze, carefully drawing a dagger from her boot as she crept out of sight.

The homeowner wouldn't be back, that much she knew for certain, but perhaps a family member –

She snickered, shaking her head at her own paranoia, tucking the dagger back into its hidden sheath.

"Are you usually this late?" she asked, making herself known as she stepped back into the kitchen, scooping a handful of grapes from a bowl she'd found in the kitchen.

His grey eyes snapped to her, his brow furrowed in alarm, and then distaste. "Are you usually such a nuisance?"

"And furthermore," she continued, popping one into her mouth, "are you always so obtrusive? There is a lot to be said for a certain level of finesse." She eyed the doorway through which he had just entered. "The homeowner is going to have to replace this door."

"The homeowner is dead," Double-Draw snapped, his jaw clenching. "There was a brawl in the saloon."

"In which you were involved, I've no doubt," Hermione intoned under her breath, crunching another grape between her teeth.

"Which you already _knew_ about," he hissed, snatching a grape from between her fingers. His hard grey eyes met hers as he bit down on the grape, his tongue flicking out to catch the moisture on his lips. Hermione caught the movement of his hand near his pistol in her periphery. "Or you wouldn't have been here so fast."

"Regardless of whether or not I knew," she said, waving a hand, "you're still too late. There's nothing here."

His eyes swept the length of her as his lip curled into a sneer. His gaze settled on her bag. "This isn't a game," he growled. "And I don't hold any reservations about taking anything from you."

"Then you'll find out which of us is _actually_ the faster draw," Hermione snapped.

He smirked, taking another grape from the bunch in her hand. "You think you're so good. But you don't know a damn thing about this town _or_ the people in it. One day you're going to need help, and I'm going to remember this."

"If a day comes when I need _your_ help, I'll leave Kingswood in shame," she snarled, snatching the handful of grapes out of his reach.

"I'll look forward to it," he purred, his lips parted as he gazed at her.

He paced closer, and Hermione was reminded how he towered over her. In a movement she barely registered, he drew her pistol from its holster, spinning it between his fingers before stopping to examine it.

"Give that back," Hermione hissed, as she kicked up a boot and grabbed the concealed dagger, pressing the flat of it against his throat.

He simply chuckled, turning the pistol carefully in his hands.

"It's a nice pistol," he murmured, taking a step away from her blade. Hermione followed him, her eyes fixed on the way he handled her gun. Then his eyes snapped to hers, and he grabbed her hand, pushing the dagger away from his throat. "Tell me your name."

"No," she hissed, swiping the outstretched pistol back, and tucking it back in its holster.

"I'll find out," he said, rolling his eyes. "From what I hear, you and Sheriff Potter have made friends."

She wasn't sure whether it was a threat, or a reminder of his standing in this town where she had no allies. No matter which, she didn't like his tone.

"It's Hermione," she said, tossing her hair back as she adjusted her hat. "My name."

"What sort of a name is that?" he asked, and her hackles raised with derision, despite that his question seemed sincere.

"What sort of a name is _Draco_?" she retorted, scowling. She stowed the dagger back in its sheath.

He frowned, staring at her for a long moment, chewing his tongue. Then he drawled, " _Draco_ is a constellation. And I typically go by Double-Draw."

"Double-Draw is stupid," she spat, lip curling. "Like you."

"Wow," he mused, "you reached deep for that one, didn't you?"

There was something about the way his grey eyes gazed at hers, the way his lips curved with amusement at her anger – she felt a hot flush creep up her neck and face and glowered at him.

"At least," she breathed, narrowing her eyes at the tumultuous storm within his, " _I_ didn't come all the way out here for nothing."

"It seems," he whispered, taking a step closer. His eyes fell out of sight in the shadow of his hat, and Hermione's eyes fixed on the smirk upon his lips. "Neither did I."

Her hand trembled slightly as it hovered over her pistol, and she inwardly cursed at the effect he seemed to have on her. Her hand was as sure as the best of them, and it would result badly for her if that was no longer the case when around this obnoxious, obstinate, _loathsome_ bandit.

"And really," he continued on, popping another grape in his mouth, "you stole the entire stash. The least you could do is buy me a drink."

"Not a chance," she hissed. "Besides, the last thing I need is for the sheriff to see me with you."

"Potter's got nothing on me," Double-Draw said, rolling his eyes. "If he did, he'd have locked me up and thrown away the key years ago. A piece of advice, from one outlaw to another – don't believe the smiles. He's as ruthless as they come."

"I don't trust you," Hermione said with a scowl.

"Then by all means, disregard my advice," Double-Draw said, waving a lazy hand. "Befriend the damn sheriff, ignore my years of knowledge. But if I find him knocking at _my_ door, you're going to see just how far my influence goes."

Hermione hesitated, then snatched one of his grapes. "I have no intentions of befriending the sheriff."

"Good," he breathed, his tongue flicking out. "About that drink, then."

" _No_ ," she responded.

"Fine," he said with a raised brow, stripping the last few grapes from the vine and tossing them into his mouth at once. "I'll remember this. _Hermione_."

He lowered his hat, tugged his bandana up onto his face, and left through the front door, his boots clicking on the wooden floor.

Hermione made to leave as well, careful to stay behind him, and watched as he mounted his horse in one fluid, graceful movement, and was gone before she even reached her own mare.

She frowned, taking a long breath to steady her heart, and then mounted her horse and made her way back to Kingswood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note _:_** Hey everyone! Thanks for the lovely response to the first chapter of Dust. I'm having a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you're enjoying reading it! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

Thanks to my lovely alpha, Kyonomiko.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Draco dropped into the barstool beside his new adversary – object of interest – he couldn't decide. Moments later a cold glass of ale was delivered before him, and he offered the barkeep a nod.

"Tell me something," Hermione said, turning the page of a book she was reading without looking up. "Have you really nothing better to do than to irritate me?"

"Gracious, is that what you think this is?" Draco asked, a smirk slipping to his mouth. "I'd think you ought to know better than that, given the haul I've brought in this week. Oh but wait, you witnessed that too. In fact, you were too late to do anything about any of it."

Her narrowed brown eyes swept to his.

"Here's the thing, _Hermione_ ," Draco said, taking a long swig from his mug. "You've been underestimating me since you arrived in Kingswood – which happens to be _my_ turf – though I've no idea why. Perhaps one day you'll realize that was a mistake."

"I doubt it," she said, with a dismissive air, and Draco chuckled.

"Arrogance will get you nowhere in this town," he informed her. "But of course, you don't care for my advice."

"I have a legitimate question," she said, her head snapping to face him, and marking the page in her book. "If you're so notorious, and you spend _most_ of your day drinking in the saloon, how is it the sheriff hasn't locked you up yet?"

Draco snickered. "Potter can suspect all he wants, but he has no proof any of it was _me_ ," he held up a lazy finger, then a second. "You will _never_ see me here at the same time the sheriff comes by. He has a tight schedule, and to his own detriment. And thirdly, he doesn't know what I look like. I'm surprised even _you_ knew who I was on sight."

"I've heard lots of stories," she snapped, a flush creeping to her cheeks.

Draco suspected he knew what sort of stories.

"So how long do you intend to stay in Kingswood?" he asked, leaning against the bar as he enjoyed her embarrassment.

"As long as I feel like," she said, and Draco caught the way her eyes flickered to the book she had been reading. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

"What are you reading?" he asked, sliding the book down the bar towards himself. Her hand slammed down on the cover, her eyes flashing as she scowled at him.

"It's a first-hand account of the founding of Kingswood," she sniffed.

Draco stared at her for a long moment, unblinking. Finally he lifted a brow and said, "Fascinating. Are you learning a lot?"

"I am," she responded, her tone and expression haughty, her body language tense.

So there was something in the book she didn't want him to know.

"I have a proposal for you," Draco said, idly tracing the rim of his glass. She snorted, as if amused. "Whatever you're arranging, let me in on it."

"And why would I do that?" she asked with derision. "What could I possibly gain by telling you anything, when you don't even know what it is."

"Because if you don't, I'll make it my last mission on this earth to make sure you _don't_ find whatever it is you're looking for." Draco rolled his eyes. "You would _much_ rather have me as an ally than an enemy, I can guarantee you. And I know every damn _hole_ in this town. I know when the jail guard changes and where they live, I know where they hide the bank safes no one knows about; I've got the answers to questions you haven't even dreamed of yet."

"You act like I'm going into this blind," she scoffed. "And then what, I expect you'll want to split the haul."

"Half and half," he said with a short nod.

"No," she hissed, finishing her drink and collecting her book from the bartop. "Do what you will, but I'm _not_ working with you."

"Fine," Draco said with a shrug, "have fun, then. I'll see you out there."

With a curl to her lip and narrowed eyes, she swept from the saloon.

Draco remaining until his drink was gone, an absent smile on his face. She would regret her refusal of his assistance.

* * *

Hermione scaled the side wall of the post office, settling into a safe spot on the roof to read her book. After her obnoxious encounter with Double-Draw the day before at the saloon, and a near run-in with the sheriff that morning, she had decided to seek a more private spot to continue her research.

She had been browsing through some historical accounts at the town office when she stumbled across a brief mention that the founders of Kingswood had hidden their wealth.

And following their untimely demise, there was no confirmation that anyone had ever _returned_ for it. But surely if this had been the case, someone would have known. _Double-Draw_ would have known.

But the fact that he hadn't immediately known what she was pursuing had sparked hope within her.

It would surely be a worthwhile haul, _if_ she could find it.

The sack of gold she had entered Kingswood with was dwindling rapidly; staying at the inn was proving to be costly. And furthermore, Double-Draw had been going out of his way to stay one step ahead of her. While she was skilled enough in her own right, he just knew the town that much better, and she found herself increasingly frustrated.

The fact that he thought she would _agree_ to working with him was laughable.

Sure, it would mean he wouldn't continuously thwart her anymore, but the thought of actually working _with_ that arrogant, bull-headed, _mulish_ man –

She ducked her head as the door to the post office slammed below her, making sure her spot was well-hidden from passersby on the streets.

Hermione also didn't have any interest in splitting her findings. The potential payoff from such a job could be enough for her to stay in one place longer than a few months. It could be enough to secure her an actual _life_.

And she didn't care to give half of it away.

She would simply have to keep ahead of _him_. Which, admittedly, would prove difficult, given he did know absolutely everything about Kingswood, while she knew very little. But no matter – she had the plan, and the book, and the information. He had nothing but a suspicion and some irrelevant bits of knowledge. He would give up soon enough, she hoped.

She ducked down again as the object of her thoughts went strolling down main street, his hat low. She observed him for a moment until he stepped into the general store across the street from the post office.

She would watch him, and learn enough about him so that _she_ would be the one in the lead.

And all of his idle threats and promises would be for naught.

Satisfied, Hermione settled into her book.

* * *

Hermione huffed an impatient breath through her nose as she arrived at her destination, to be met with the unpleasant sight of Double-Draw, his bandana loose around his neck and his hat on the worn wooden table. It was strange to see him without the hat – his pale blond hair was disheveled and scruffy.

If she hadn't already been fully convinced he was _waiting_ for her, she would have known by the fact that he was _cooking_ in a dead man's house.

"What are you doing?" she asked, exasperated, her shoulders slumping at the realization that he had beat her again. Her money bag was getting dangerously low.

"What does it look like?" he drawled, one brow raised. "Cooked you supper. You're late, by the way."

"You're incorrigible," she huffed, even as her mouth watered at the smell of a hot meal. She had been getting by with increasingly poor meals as her money had dwindled.

If she hadn't been clinging to the hope of the founders' treasure, she would have left Kingswood by now.

"You're welcome," he mocked, rolling his eyes as he loaded two plates. He carelessly spun hers onto the table in front of her, and sat down at the next seat with his own. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

"No," she snapped, taking a tentative bite of the potatoes on her plate. "I don't need your help."

"Alright," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "So are you leaving Kingswood, then? I imagine you're running low on money. Staying at the inn will do that to you."

Her eyes narrowed at his cheap provocations. "Where do you live, then? You look homeless."

"Not that you need to point it out in such a callous manner," he said, raising a brow as he sheared off a piece of his chicken. "I live wherever I feel like it. Maybe I'll stay here tonight."

She swallowed. He actually _was_ homeless.

"Why don't you find a place to stay if you're so well off?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"And burn through my money like you've been doing?" Double-Draw glanced up at her. "No, thank you. Kingswood is temporary for me and I get on just fine. I don't need a cage, nor do I want one. I go where I want, when I want, doing what I want, beneath the open sky. One day I'll put all this behind me, _far_ behind me, and I'll be happy to do so."

Hermione snickered, even as she dug into the meal he had prepared. "So what, you figure you'll steal enough money one day, and simply ride off into the sunset."

He stared at her, his grey eyes hard, his jaw clenched. "Is that so wrong?"

Hermione's lips twitched, her smile faltering. "No, I suppose not."

"Don't tell me Kingswood is _your_ final destination in this great, dusty old world," he said, brows coming together. "A shithole like this."

She stared at him for a long moment, silverware frozen in her hands. "I don't know where I'll end up."

"Well, not that I care what _you_ do, but all I know is there's a world out there, waiting for me to explore it." He stabbed a bite of his chicken and chewed it, his eyes thoughtful.

If she was honest, Hermione hadn't given it that much consideration. She'd been on the run between towns for so long, often just scraping by, that the idea of finality had barely registered.

"I guess you're right," she finally admitted. "Thanks, by the way. For the food."

"Thank the dead guy," Double-Draw said with a shrug. "I just cooked it. Would have gone bad otherwise."

"Did you kill him?" she asked with some trepidation.

"No," he scoffed. "Don't assume I'm involved every time there's a death in town. And for that matter, don't believe everything you hear, either."

"I suppose not," she said quietly. His disposition, in comparison to the times he had been so pretentious and arrogant, was strangely disarming.

"It's survival, Hermione, plain and simple. I don't mourn the things I can't control. I can't concern myself with what happens between other people, because I have to do what gets me through to the next day, and the next," he said, taking another bite of his potatoes. "I know you know what that's like. But," he hesitated, staring her down. "I can't go easy on you. This is my town, and I need to look out for myself. If you don't want to work together, fine, but I'm _going_ to drive you out of Kingswood."

Hermione averted her gaze, feeling the truth in his words. She was nearly out of money, he was continually ahead of her, and she would have already gone but for that small, hidden hope.

"I don't want to work with you," she finally said. "I can't tell you what I'm going after, but once I get it, I'll leave. It's like you said – I have to look out for myself, too."

Something flashed on his face, and for a split second she thought it might have been disappointment.

But then his cocky smirk returned, and he held up a glass of something.

"Well then," he said, "I hope it's there, because I'll find it first. And I'll look forward to the day your irritating ass leaves town."

"Please," she snickered absently. "You and I both know you like my ass."

She knew more about the founders' treasure than he ever would. And by the time he found out what she had taken, she would be long gone on the next leg of her own journey.

His smirk grew into a slow, lazy grin, his eyes heavily lidded as he stared at her. "You're right. I do."

Her eyebrows flickered in acknowledgement as she finished her meal, unwilling to meet his gaze for fear of what she might find there. She couldn't help but let his words get to her.

"Well, thanks for the food, Triple-D. It's been… interesting." She rose to her feet, ensuring she had everything.

"Indeed it has," he murmured, eyeing her oddly. He stood to follow her to the door. "Kingswood will be boring again when you leave. But here are my terms in case you change your mind: I'm willing to work with you up until the point when I go after whatever it is you think you're going to find. At that point, to each their own, and I won't help you if you get into trouble."

"I won't need your help," she whispered without turning back to face him, despite the warning chills that shot up her spine at keeping him at her back.

"Good," he said, his voice strained. She thought she felt his hand graze her hip, though it was so light it could have been an accident. But then his fingers trickled up the length of her back, and she couldn't help the shiver that followed. "Then I'll see you around. Maybe."

"Maybe," she agreed, and when she turned her head to the side, his grey eyes were staring her down. "Goodbye, then."

His eyebrows merely flickered and he swept his hat from the table, securing it on his head once more.

With a tense nod, Hermione left.

* * *

Draco felt a self-satisfied smile come to his lips as he watched her horse fade off into a cloud of dust. He bit his lower lip, in no rush to go anywhere.

He hadn't even intended for things to go the way they had – he had merely wanted to taunt her for being missing out on the loot again. And he knew _feeding_ her would knock her off her defenses. He knew she had to be running low on money, and it was only a matter of time before Kingswood would be his again. He simply had to stay ahead of her for a bit longer yet.

And now… without her latest and last hunt, she would have no reason to stay.

Draco ran his fingers along the worn leather spine of the book she had been so covetously guarding. He had seen her hiding it as he passed, double-checking her satchel every so often.

It was a lesson he had learned early on: always watch your back. She would learn, too.

He almost felt bad, given he greatly amused himself talking to her. And she was pretty, and he would have enjoyed getting to know her better.

Beyond that, she understood his life better than any woman he had ever met.

But no matter. It wasn't personal, it was about survival.

He would read the book and discover what it was she was so insistent on finding, that had kept her lingering in Kingswood even without any other prospects.

Then Draco would beat her to it. Given her steadfast resistance, he hoped it was the sort of windfall he had been waiting for.

The one that would _finally_ get him out of this dirty, God-forsaken town.

He dropped back into his seat, swung his boots up on the wooden table, and began to read.

* * *

Hermione threw the last items from her bag onto the floor of her room at the inn. Frantic, she shifted through the meagre pile of her possessions, as if the book would suddenly be there.

She'd had it before she left Kingswood, having found out about the casualty earlier in the saloon, and had made her way directly to the man's house.

She froze, her eyes narrowing at a spot on the wooden bedframe.

The way Double-Draw's hand had grazed her hip, and then her back.

She had been too distracted by the way her flesh had reacted to realize what he was actually doing. She grit her teeth, inwardly cursing herself for allowing her guard to drop around him. He had probably planned the whole thing, from cooking for her to thieving her book.

He knew it was the last thing keeping her in Kingswood.

If he beat her to that treasure – well, he simply couldn't. She would pry it from his cold hands, if she needed to.

With a quiet calm, Hermione carefully folded and stowed her possessions back into her bag, ensuring her pistol was fully loaded.

She loaded her gear and let the innkeepers know she would be leaving.

It looked as if she would be staying in Kingswood longer than intended, after all, and she would need all the gold she could get.

That stupid bandit wouldn't be laughing at her for long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note _:_** Hey everyone! Thanks so much for taking a chance on this crazy fic :) I hope you continue to enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione huffed a sigh of frustration as the last room of an old shack turned up empty. The few coins she had managed to scrounge up were hardly worth her while but she pocketed them all the same.

They had been thorough when this shack had been abandoned.

It was the first time she had found something before Double-Draw in weeks. She hadn't even _seen_ him in nearly a week. It was as if he had stolen her book and gone into hiding. The nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach suggested he had.

As if he knew she were coming for him with a loaded gun.

He was better at self-preservation than anyone she had ever met.

She kicked the toe of her boot into the tall grasses out the back door of the shack. Her eyes fell on a large copper still some distance away. Raising a brow she made her way over to it. Even the barrels were empty, having been drained of their moonshine.

She couldn't catch a damn break. She was down to her last few silvers and a handful of coppers, and she couldn't even –

Her eyes landed on a few glass growlers sitting on the ground beneath the still, filled with moonshine, that she had initially overlooked.

Finally, something had gone her way.

She hauled the growlers away from the still and collapsed into the grass, her back against the hard wall of the shack, wincing at the initial taste of the hooch.

But it was better than nothing, and at this point, she was willing to take it.

* * *

Hermione stared up at the setting sun to see Double-Draw blinking down at her.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked, one brow raised beneath his stetson. "Where did you find all this?"

"I beat you here," Hermione said, her eyes half-lidded. She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the still. "Found them. Over there. Must have been abandoned."

"You're drunk," he said, his lips twitching.

"I hate you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she remembered he had been hiding from her. Her hand fumbled for her pistol, and he snickered, swiping the growler from her hand.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized his other hand was holding a cocked pistol to her temple. She hadn't seen him draw.

"Bad idea," he hissed, kicking her hand free from her holster with the toe of his boot, then stowed his own pistol. He took a long swig from the bottle then stared at the moonshine for a moment. " _Also_ a bad idea, though marginally better than attempting to shoot me while inebriated."

"Give me back my book," she growled, snatching the bottle back from him.

"I don't have it here," he said, removing his pack and taking up a spot against the wall beside her.

"So you admit you stole it," she said, scowling.

"Of course I stole it. Fascinating, isn't it? That the founders' treasure was never recovered." His lips twitched into a smirk again as he cracked open one of the other growlers and took a long swig.

"I hate you," Hermione moaned again. "You could have had the rest of the town, but you can't let me just have _one_ thing."

He snorted. "You already know how I feel about that. Not to mention this _one_ thing could potentially be a greater hit than anything I've ever found in Kingswood."

"If you really wanted to work together, you wouldn't have stolen the book," she countered. "That isn't how you build trust, you know."

"It isn't about trust," he said, taking another drink. "It's about putting our differences aside and working towards a common goal, for as long as it takes to achieve, and then going our separate ways, both far richer for it."

"If I can't trust you, I can't believe you wouldn't try to steal my share from me," she threw back at him, with a kick to his foot for good measure, outstretched beside hers. Her spurs clinked with his.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed. "There _is_ honour among thieves, you know."

"You just held your gun to my head," she deadpanned.

"Only because you were going to do something stupid and get _yourself_ killed," he said, leaning his head back against the wall. "And for the record, I don't _need_ your help finding the treasure. As a gesture of good faith, I was going to let you in on it, but I'd be better off claiming it all for myself." He paused, his grey eyes meeting hers. "Much like you intended to do."

"I don't owe you anything," she said, hackles raised in defense.

"I owe _you_ less than nothing," he snickered. "In fact, I probably owe you a bullet."

Hermione just glared at him, taking a swig of her moonshine. Her head was spinning, and she wished he hadn't shown up. She reasonably should have expected it, but she had been so frustrated she hadn't considered the consequences.

Now here she was, drunk, with her number one rival – a notorious outlaw – who wouldn't hesitate to kill her. She had gone from careful to sloppy and she couldn't even think well enough to formulate a plan.

Feeling irritated and awkward, Hermione threw her hat to the ground beside her, adjusting her curls.

Double-Draw's gaze flickered to rest on her hair, and then her face. He stared for long enough that Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, until he said, "You have the most insane hair I have ever seen."

"Right, well," she retorted. "Yours looks like the sun."

"I know," he said with a shrug. "My father's was the same colour."

She hadn't heard him mention anything personal, other than the fact that he wanted to leave Kingswood, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Does your family live here?" she asked, expecting a derisive stare or silence.

Double-Draw took a swig from his growler and said, "My parents are dead. They died when I was twelve I think. I came to Kingswood when I was sixteen."

"You've been alone since you were twelve?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. She felt a twinge of something in her stomach as she stared at him.

"Something like that," he said with a shrug. "I didn't really have a choice. No one wanted to give a kid work so I just did what I had to do in order to survive and didn't look back. Coming here gave me another start."

"Yeah," she murmured, staring hard into a spot on the ground.

"What about you?" he asked, not looking at her. "When did you parents die?"

"How did you –" her eyes swung to him. He merely shrugged again, his brows flickering. "I was ten. Thieves broke into our house and killed my parents. I was in the yard." Her brow furrowed as she released a sigh. "I went to live with my uncle for a few years but he didn't want me around, so I stole his horse and left."

She snickered as Double-Draw laughed. He tossed his hat to the ground by his boots and ran a hand through his hair.

"Been on my own since. After my parents, I learned to look out for myself, so I wouldn't have to rely on anyone," she muttered, taking another drink of moonshine. "So I could protect myself."

He stared at her for another long, tense moment, but said nothing. The last flickers of light from the setting sun danced across his face, brilliant facets of orange and blue.

His eyes swept to the bottle hanging from her hand, and he smirked. "Drink up."

"I don't want to get drunk with you," she scoffed, even as she took another sip.

"Too late," he snickered. "It'll be fun. We ought to have some fun, don't you think? Just for a minute. All this competition grows tiresome."

"You said it," Hermione grumbled under her breath. "You aren't nearly as drunk as me."

He pursed his lips, then tilted his head back and took a long swig of the hooch, making a face when he looked at her again.

"It isn't good, is it?" he asked, staring at the bottle with distaste.

"No," Hermione said with a shrug. "But someone's trying to make sure I don't find any money, so it's better than nothing."

His head lolled sideways along the wall of the shack. "I've told you, if you work with me, we'll find more _and_ I'll leave you alone."

Hermione didn't respond, trying to think of all the reasons she had been refusing to work with him. Especially since he had stolen her book. Maybe she would have to shelve her pride after all – just until they located the founders' treasure.

She swayed a little where she sat, and said, "I'll get back to you."

"You can let me know when you're sober," Double-Draw said, an amused smile on his face. He hesitated for a moment, holding up a finger. "I'm almost drunk. We ought to race our horses."

"That sounds like a bad idea," Hermione murmured, groaning at the thought of standing.

He sagged against the wall. "You're probably right." He stared at the moon for a moment, the silver of it reflecting on his hair, and Hermione was momentarily transfixed. "Do you ever get lonely?"

She blinked, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Lonely? I guess sometimes."

His expression was serious, his brow furrowed as he elaborated. "You know, we aren't meant to be on our own. Especially not for so long."

Hermione chanced a furtive glance in his direction. He was still staring at the moon, taking a long pull of his moonshine.

"I suppose I'm used to it by now," she responded. Her eyes landed on the stubble of his jaw, the worn bandana around his throat.

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "Same. Sometimes I figure I'm just not meant to have other people in my life. Not really. I know people, around town, and some people are afraid of me, but not really. I don't _get along_ with other people."

Hermione scrunched her face up, turning to look at him. "How many people have you killed?"

He stared at her for a long moment, his lips pressed into a grimace. Then he shook his head, averting his gaze. "I don't know. I've lost count."

Hermione exhaled a long breath and took a swig from her growler.

Double-Draw turned his head to her, fidgeting with one of the twin holsters at his sides.

"Sometimes I try to tell myself I have a choice, that it doesn't need to be this way. But then I'm staring down his barrel, and it's him or me. And if I hesitate, it'll be me." He frowned, shaking his head. "And _I'm_ a scumbag, but that guy, he's got a rotten soul, you know? The kind of man that would take advantage of a woman for fun."

Hermione felt a shiver creep down her spine. She didn't know how to respond to that.

He went on, staring at the moon again. "Does that mean I have more of a right to live? Nah, but all I've known since I was twelve years old was how to survive. And that means I pull the trigger."

Hermione figured she knew a few too many things about survival, too. "You must _really_ be lonely to be telling me all this."

"Maybe it's the hooch." He snickered and swirled the moonshine in his bottle, peering through the narrow opening.

"Don't you think I'll use it against you?" An absent smile came to her lips as she traced a pattern on her own leg with a fingertip.

"No. Because I'd kill you if I had to, if it was me and you, and one of us was going to die." He was staring at her with a stern expression again. "I won't be happy about it. I'm never happy about it. But like I said, it's only about surviving. It isn't personal. It's just all I know."

"How do you know it will be any different when you leave? That it won't be the same bullshit in another town." It was the one thing that had lingered in her mind since he had said it, and since Hermione realized she had nowhere she really wanted to go next. Nowhere she wanted to end up.

"I don't know. But I have to believe there's more out there." His lips pressed together, his jaw clenched.

"When you head off into the sunset," Hermione said, her words soft, as she gestured west with a nod of her head.

"Yes," he said, shaking his head gently. "I can't help but think, sometimes – what if it's about more than just surviving? What if it's about writing my own story, one day?"

"We're outlaws. We don't get to write the story." Hermione ran her tongue along her teeth and pursed her lips, the handle of her growler dangling loose from her fingers. "But if anyone could change that, it'll be you, I suspect."

He glanced at her. "Should I write you in?"

"Not if I'm dead. Not if you run me out of town."

Double-Draw smirked, his eyelids heavy, his grey eyes hot on her skin in the cool night air. "You know my terms. I've got your book now. How do you know I haven't already figured it out?"

"Because you wouldn't be here drinking with me."

"Unless that's what I wanted you to think," he mused. "Maybe I knew you would be here tonight, so I came here to give back your book, because I've already got the treasure. Maybe it's why I allowed you to beat me here."

Hermione blinked, his words swirling around her foggy brain. "You're lying. You said you didn't have the book with you."

"Maybe I'm lying now," he drawled, "maybe I was lying then."

"And you wonder why I don't trust you," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed.

"You're right not to trust me," he said, flashing her a tight smile.

"What it," she whispered, her eyes flickering to his, " _I_ already found the treasure."

He laughed out loud, the moonshine swishing around in his growler as he threw his head back.

"Come on, Hermione," he snickered, and she blinked at the way her name rolled off his tongue, "you aren't drinking in celebration tonight, that much was obvious when I walked out here."

"What if that's what I wanted you to –"

"What _if_ ," he interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I kissed you."

She froze, her mouth open mid-sentence, and his gaze darted to her lips. His grey eyes sparkled with the light of the moon as they swept to hers, his expression intent.

"Is that an actual question or a hypothetical scenario?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes from his.

"An actual question," he murmured, his face drifting closer to hers. "Like, would you hit me, or draw your gun or –"

"You'll have to figure that out on your own, Triple-D," she breathed, swallowing.

"Don't call me Triple-D," he growled, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"What am I supposed to call you then?" Hermione asked, her gaze landing on his mouth as he spoke.

"Literally anything else." He rolled his eyes. His free hand came up to untie the bandana around her throat. "Double-Draw… you can call me Draco, if you like."

Hermione set her growler down, fidgeting with the cap with one hand. Her other rose and entwined in his bandana, giving it a slight tug. "Okay, _Draco_."

His eyes met hers, his chin lowered, and he traced the curve of her jaw with his fingertips. He murmured, "Okay," before his lips met hers with crushing, desirous force.

Frozen, Hermione forgot to do anything for the briefest of moments and then she was kissing him back with a sort of desperation, her fingers slipping clumsily on the buttons of his vest and shirt. She felt his growler bounce off her back as his free hand grasped a handful of her hair, and she swiped the bottle, setting it aside with hers.

With a low hum in his throat, he tilted her head, and his teeth grazed her jaw as he planted a trail of kisses along her throat, his fingers fumbling with her shirt. A whimper slipped from her mouth as his lips and tongue made their way down her collarbone and chest, and his hand caught hers as she reached to remove his holster.

He pulled away, kissing her again, smirking against her lips as he muttered, "Careful." He met her gaze with amusement as he removed his twin pistols, setting them far out of the way, and proceeded to divest himself of six assorted knives and daggers, toeing off his boots.

Hermione snickered, and removed her own plentiful weapons and spurred boots.

"Someone was going to get hurt," he chuckled, kissing her again, shoving her down into the grass and following to rest above her.

The heat from his body was overwhelming, and Hermione found herself delirious as she grabbed him by the collar, shoving his shirt from his shoulders, and he was atop her again, his fingers playing with the clasp of her trousers.

The warmth of his bare chest met the flesh of her stomach, his hands and mouth playing about the lace of her bra. He gave a tug to her pants, cursing against her skin when he had to look down at what he was doing.

Hermione giggled and he grinned, staring down at her, biting his lower lip. Finally he dragged the tight trousers from her legs, and Hermione might have felt cold and exposed in the night air, in a bed of grass, if not for the abundance of moonshine coursing heavily through her bloodstream.

"This doesn't mean we're working together," she muttered against his lips as she drew him in again, one hand working with his trousers. He shifted to oblige her, ridding himself of the last of his clothing.

"Definitely not," he responded, biting down on her earlobe as his hand slipped inside her underwear, his other removing her bra and tossing it aside.

His eyes were hot on her flesh as he stared down at her, dragging her underwear down along one leg, and then the other.

"Competition's off for the night, remember," he breathed, catching one of her nipples gently between his teeth, peaked in the night air.

"Right," she gasped, arching into him, and the sensation of his hands and mouth on her was nearly enough to send her over the edge, his fingers slipping between her legs again.

Then he pushed himself into her, and Hermione's eyes rolled back as she cried out, her hands clutching his bare back as he began to move. Draco stared down at her, his grey eyes intense, and he kissed her again, his tongue catching hers.

Hermione groaned and bit down on his lower lip, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he cursed under his breath as he plunged steadily into her. Hermione gasped at the angle, her hands entwining in his hair, her breathing harsh and blood pounding in her ears as her heart raced.

He muttered something against her skin, his face buried into her neck as he continued to slam into her, relentless, his skin flushed, and Hermione was gripped in the throes of passion, her eyes meeting his.

He offered her a slow smirk, then rolled, so she was atop him, and Hermione sunk down onto the length of him, her eyes fluttering shut as he groaned.

His fingers gripped her hips with bruising strength as she moved slowly up and down, her hands clutching his shoulders. Tossing her hair back, she bent to kiss him again, adrenaline and desire coursing through her as he dug one hand into her hair, his other hand guiding her to escalate.

His hips pulsed upwards into hers, and Hermione felt herself slipping toward that glorious peak, her vision blurring, and as he thrust into her she came undone, crying out, burying her face in his shoulder.

Moments later he found his own release, groaning her name, and his hand trailed across the skin of her back as she collapsed into him, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

Finally she eased off of him, slipping her underwear and bra back on, suddenly aware of the grass and dirt surrounding them, and he donned his own shorts, staring at her.

Sitting up, he took a long pull from his growler and winced at the taste. He had a thin sheen of sweat glistening at his temples.

Hermione smirked, sitting alongside him. "That was fun."

"Yes it was," he replied, nudging her in the shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and Hermione felt her stomach flip unexpectedly. She wrapped her hand around the neck of his growler, took a sip, and handed it back to him.

"You look different," she observed. "Like this."

He smirked, leaning back on his hands in the grass behind him. "You mean because I'm almost nude."

"Less… Double-Draw, more Draco," she commented, trailing her fingers along the skin of his abdomen.

One of his hands came to the back of her neck, drawing idly across the top of her spine as he swept her hair to the side. "You've obviously realized by now Double-Draw isn't all they say he is."

Her eyes swept to his, a wry smile creeping across her face. "I knew from the moment I met you that Double-Draw wasn't all they say he is."

His eyes widened in offense, his arms coming around her waist and throwing her back into the grass. His grey eyes were glazed with the liquor as he stared down at her, but something fluttered in Hermione's chest as she stared back.

She breathed, "I think I prefer Draco."

He swallowed, his lips parting. "I do, too."

He grinned, swiping up his growler and drizzling moonshine into the line of her cleavage. Hermione gasped at the cold liquid, but found herself giggling as he dove in, his tongue lapping the alcohol from her skin.

She dug her hands into his hair, smiling to herself as her eyes slipped shut.

* * *

Hermione stirred awake to the sun high in the sky. She blinked wildly, turning to see the sleeping face of Double-Draw, so close she could feel the soft exhales of his breath.

The majority of her clothing was tossed in a careless heap, her pistol and knives stacked in a pile with his. She blinked again, her eyes landing on the empty growlers laid in the grass, and her head started pounding.

Shifting away from Double-Draw as the night came back to her in flashes and snippets of carnal delirium, she dropped her spinning head back into the grass, dragging her shirt and pants towards her.

Wiggling about in the grass, she managed to dress herself without the need to stand, fearing how her stomach might react.

Her eyes flickered to the man in the grass beside her, and landed on his peaceful expression for a long moment.

Although much of the night was a blur, she recalled the things he had said, about how he wished for a better life. She hoped one day he would find it.

She also remembered him saying their competition was only off for the night, and no matter what else had occurred between them, she suspected he would hold to that. And despite the pleasant memories swimming through her foggy brain, Hermione knew she couldn't trust him.

If he was going after the founders' treasure, she didn't believe he would share.

Not with how badly he wanted to get out of Kingswood.

Rising carefully to her feet, her head spinning, Hermione slipped her holster around her waist, stowing the daggers in her boots and sheathed out of sight. She tied her bandana around her throat and dragged it up across her face, to protect against the dust on the ride back.

Lastly she slipped on her hat and boots, slinging her pack across her back.

She stared at Double-Draw, still out cold. Her gaze swept to the pile of his weapons and a breath caught in her throat.

He would come after her, if she stole his guns, and he would kill her with his bare hands. But it would give her an advantage, finally, if she could stay away from him.

But he knew Kingswood so well – it was as if he had a network of shortcuts he used to stay steadily ahead of her. He would find her.

She glanced to his bag, propped against the wall of the shack, and her heart sped up.

If he had her book –

Slipping carefully around him, she crouched beside his bag, sliding a dagger into one hand as the other slipped in, deftly searching his pack. Her heart dropped with disappointment at the lack of any signs of a soft, leather spine, and she turned to leave. But then she stilled, and walked back over, keeping a careful eye to be sure he wasn't stirring.

She reached into his bag again, her fingers slipping around the edge of the lining, and as they reached the back, her fingers slid through into a hidden compartment.

Clenching her dagger tightly, she reached further in, smiling as she touched soft leather.

She extricated the book, as carefully as she could manage despite the pounding in her head and quickly made her way back around him. When she reached the far edge of the shack, she glanced back at him, allowing her eyes to linger for a moment longer on the way his soft blond hair fell in his face.

She recalled the way he had kissed her and her stomach twisted in on itself; she suspected it had nothing to do with the moonshine.

This would be her answer, then, to whether or not she would work with him to find the treasure. It would be the first and last time they would get along.

Thinking of his words about survival, and the need to look after oneself, Hermione tucked the book into her own bag and slipped around the shack to where her horse was tied up with his. She sheathed her dagger, mounted her horse, and left for Kingswood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note _:_** Thanks for the support on this fic, guys. It really means a lot, given how bizarre it is :)

Enjoy your trip, LBX. xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched Kingswood's main street for any trace of Hermione from the general store roof.

It had been three days since he had awoken, alone, in the grass, all evidence of her or the book having thoroughly vanished. At least she had left his weapons alone, or he would have gone after her with everything he had.

It was frustrating. He had enjoyed the night they had spent together, and it had been a harsh return to reality to learn she had robbed him of the book and slipped away.

He didn't know why he had been so hopeful she would decide to pursue the treasure together, but it had been a bitter letdown to learn her decision.

Draco supposed he was lonelier than he had even allowed himself to believe.

But no matter – she had made her decision and now Draco would track her until she returned what was his. He had read enough of the book to know what she was after, but he didn't know where it was. Nothing in the book had suggested a location, so he had taken to scouring the town's resources, while still keeping an eye out for the woman.

She obviously knew to keep out of his way, and he hadn't seen her turn up anywhere since.

But he would find her eventually.

* * *

Draco crept up, a smirk slipping to his face. He had spotted her, tucked in a back corner of the town archives, scowling as her eyes darted rapidly back and forth across a stack of news clippings and reports.

Draco had hidden off to the side, making certain she was focused before sneaking up on her, drawing a dagger from the sheath at his thigh.

A tiny breath escaped her mouth as she found herself with the edge of his blade pressed against her carotid.

"Not so terribly poor at stealth after all, eh," he murmured in her ear as he ducked in. He could feel the shallow breaths she was taking, afraid to move too fast for the prospect of imminent death if she did.

"Draco," she hissed, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead of her.

"That's Double-Draw to you," he snarled. His other hand hovered alongside his pistol, his eyes fixed on her hands in case she made a move for one of the half a dozen weapons he knew she carried on her person.

"I know you're mad at me," she whispered, and Draco scoffed. "I'll give you the damn book. There's nothing about a location in it anyway."

"I know," Draco drawled, and he eased off her throat slightly, drawing one of his pistols to press against the back of her neck. His gaze flickered behind him to be sure no one was watching. He sheathed the blade, keeping the pistol firm against her spine, and reached around her to grab the sheets of notes in front of her on the table. "I don't want the book. I want this."

"I haven't found anything," she whispered. Then she huffed, and Draco imagined she was rolling her eyes. "If you think _this_ if going to make me accept your offer –"

"It's too late," Draco clipped, his eyes scanning her tidy cursive. "There is no more offer. You're on your own now."

She fell silent, her shoulders sagging slightly, and Draco blinked.

"You weren't going to accept anyway, you and I both know that," he hissed, scathing. Any sort of truce between them had been broken the moment she swiped his book and snuck away after their night together.

"I was considering it," she whispered.

"Nice try," Draco said, mocking. "You're only saying that because I've got a gun to your head. You don't trust me, remember? So I might as well give you a reason not to."

"Draco," she said again, her voice breaking a little.

"Give me the articles," he sneered, holding out his empty hand. "Everything you've found."

"I didn't want it to be like this," she said, deflated, as she handed over everything she had presumably dug up on the subject. It would be enough to keep Draco occupied for days, and hopefully, he would find something that would lead him to the treasure, and far away from Kingswood. And _her_.

"Neither did I," he said shortly. "Unfortunately, I wasn't given a say in the matter. You dug your grave when you left me at that shack."

"You're acting like you were hurt by it," she hissed, and Draco frowned, tucking the resources into his bag.

"Who says I wasn't?" he snapped, stowing his pistol and sweeping from the archives without looking back.

* * *

Hermione pushed her horse past its limits, spurring the mare on to the point where the canyon alongside her was a blur, a hurricane of dust flying up behind her.

Moisture flew from the corners of her eyes at the speed, but still, she couldn't get away from Kingswood fast enough.

 _Everything she had been working on_. Gone. And now Double-Draw had her research, and her notes, and he would find the treasure. She had no money, no food, and no way to get any. There wasn't a chance he would let her beat him to any prospects in Kingswood now.

She hadn't realized he would be so angry over the book. But maybe it hadn't been the book.

Gasping, she pulled up on the reins, and her horse slowed to a stop. Tears were flowing from her eyes, but not from the wind or the dust.

She had pushed away the only person who had ever understood her.

And he hated her and _he had been hurt too_.

She turned her head to face the west, soft oranges and pinks filling the sky as she slumped, feeling both exhausted and defeated. She wished she had never gone to Kingswood. Wished she had never met Double-Draw.

She felt more alone than she ever had, since her parents had died and she had found herself alone in the world. She thought she had grown used to it – she had learned to look after herself, and had done so for many years.

But now…

She cast another glance behind her, down the dry and dusty road she had been following, that would lead back to town, and shook her head.

There was nothing left for her in Kingswood. She would find a place to sleep for the night, and in the morning she would carry on to the next town down the road, and see if she could scrounge up some gold there.

The founders' treasure had started out as a dream, and become a nightmare.

She hoped Double-Draw found it. Hoped he escaped Kingswood after all, and maybe one day he would find his peace.

Sniffling, and angrily swiping at the tears traveling from her eyes into her bandana, Hermione spurred her horse into motion once more.

* * *

Draco scowled to himself as he pored over page after page of notes, cross-referencing with endless articles. His eyes were starting to blur, and he rubbed a hand down his face.

He hadn't seen Hermione in three days, since he had confronted her at the archives, and he was starting to believe she wasn't simply lying low. Without her research, she had no way to find the founders' treasure, and maybe he had finally driven her from town.

It wasn't the way he had meant to do it.

He hadn't really _wanted_ to do it at all, but she had been a threat to his livelihood, and his future.

He couldn't keep his eyes from lifting up, every time a woman walked down the main road in Kingswood. From his perch atop the general store, he could see the entire street, and he cursed himself each time.

She was gone. Well, good, because Draco was tired of dealing with her.

And now he would be free to find the treasure whenever suited him, without worrying about racing against her. Draco had spent a dozen years without needing another person, and he knew very well how to get by on his own.

He didn't _care_ about her.

He didn't care whether she had run into trouble in the vast, unforgiving plains. Whether she had left town with no food or resources, and no money because he had driven her broke.

He sort of hoped she hadn't gone east towards Sequoia, because she wouldn't be prepared to run into the bandit gang that lived there. But that was her problem, and he knew she could look after herself.

Not that it mattered to him what happened to her. She was out of his hair, and that's all Draco cared about.

Glowering down at the street below him, Draco returned to his research.

* * *

Hermione was parched, her mouth dry and lips cracking. She had left Kingswood days ago – she had depleted her remaining food supply, and the only reason she had any water left in her leather skin was because she had been strict with herself about rationing it.

But if she didn't find more soon, she would never make it to the next town. She hadn't seen a soul or a single homestead, and her horse had grown dangerously weary.

The hard, packed earth, and the blazing sun had been especially cruel, and Hermione, not for the first time, wished she had taken her chances with Double-Draw and stayed in Kingswood after all.

If she died out here, alone, it would all have been for nought.

Her eyes fluttered, exhaustion creeping up on her, and it was a struggle to stay upright.

Her horse let out a soft whimper and Hermione patted the mare on the neck, trying to reassure the poor beast.

"I know," she murmured, tangling her fingers in the long hair on the back of the horse's powerful neck.

But the horse whinnied again, and Hermione glanced up, blinking several times.

An old farmstead stood at the bottom of a valley, dilapidated, much of the adjacent farmland that had once been proudly worked, cracked and infertile. But a small garden still grew beside the house, its produce green and lush, and she could see a well.

Gasping in relief, Hermione spurred her horse the remaining distance, hoping no one would be home. But as she approached the home, an older woman came around into the garden, staring in surprise, her mouth parted.

Hermione ripped her bandana off as she stumbled without grace from her horse.

"Hello," she gasped, ripping her pack from the back of the horse and swinging it across her own back. Her voice was hoarse as she asked, "Have you perhaps got some water?"

"Oh, goodness," the woman said, taking in the sight of Hermione. She was certain she was coated in a layer of dust, and she probably looked a fright. "Of course, dear, come along."

Some time later, Hermione let out a long sigh. Her body and clothes were clean, she had been fed and watered, and the elderly couple had insisted she take some of the produce from their garden and a generous package of cured meats, along with a second full water skin.

Her eyes had nearly watered at the show of hospitality. She had offered to pay them, despite that she had nothing left, but they had refused.

"Thank you for everything," she murmured, feeling overwhelmed. "Can you tell me where the nearest town is?"

"Sequoia Bluffs," the farmer said, pointing approximately south-southwest. "You must have just missed it about half a day's ride back. You'll find a place to stay there."

"Thank you," Hermione gasped, mounting her horse, who was looking spritely once again. She blinked down at the couple who had saved her without a concern. "Someday, I will return to repay this kindness."

"Think nothing of it," the woman said with an absent wave.

With a last glance, Hermione nodded and swept away to the south.

* * *

She was near the outskirts of Sequoia Bluffs, and she was following a group of bandits at a safe distance. The more she could learn about this new town the better, and if she would be facing an entire _team_ of Double-Draws in this town, she didn't suspect she would be staying long.

Hermione slowed her horse as she heard one of the bandits speaking, his words carrying on the air.

"If we ride hard we can hit Kingswood in two and a half days," the man was saying, and she heard a general chorus from the rest. There were five of them in total, and the fact that they were shouting their plans made Hermione suspect that they weren't altogether aware of their surroundings.

Idly, she wondered why they were traveling to Kingswood, and whether they were friends or foes of Double-Draw's. Not that it mattered to her either way. He would just as soon see her dead.

"Good," one of the men said in a vicious tone. "The sooner we can take care of business."

"Revenge for Skip!" another of the men growled, and the others agreed their raucous consent again. "And that stupid outlaw won't see us coming until he's Double- _Dead_."

A collective of sneering laughter followed and Hermione cautiously backed her horse up further from the group of men, her eyes wide and heart racing.

She wondered if _Skip_ was the man to whom Draco had referred – the one with the rotten soul who took advantage of women, and she was privately glad Skip was dead.

But if these men were seeking vengeance on Draco, and there were five of them – she knew Draco was good, but was he that good, caught unaware?

Her heart was racing somewhere between her throat and her ears and she sat atop her horse, frozen, trying to decide what she should do.

If this group of bandits from Sequoia were leaving, the town would be empty. But didn't she owe Draco more than that? Did she not owe him a warning? She would have to give it everything she had to make it back to Kingswood in under three days.

Swallowing her nerves before she had a chance to think on it too hard, Hermione turned her horse west and flew.

* * *

Draco was sweating under the blazing sun. He was pacing just past the eastern outskirts of Kingswood, and was starting to wish he had brought his horse further in this direction.

The sun was blazing, he was running low on water, and Draco felt like he was looking for a literal needle in a haystack.

After days of studying Hermione's articles, Draco had finally stumbled across something worthy of consideration. That there had been a cache hidden to the east of Kingswood which runners had used to store illicit liquor and other substances. That the founders of Kingswood themselves had used the cache for their own uses.

The only identifying factor Draco had discovered in the text was that this supposed cache was near a well.

Many of the wells that had been around during the founding of Kingswood had long since dried up with the groundwater, and had been knocked down and boarded over.

So Draco was now quite literally looking for a wooden well cover that was mostly likely covered in layers of dried, packed earth. And the "east of Kingswood" covered a _lot_ of packed earth.

But it was the only lead he had, and he had a feeling in his gut about the hidden cache.

He swiped a hand along his brow, wishing he had something else to go on. All he could hope was that some part of the stone or the pump or _something_ still remained. So he had tied up his horse some distance back with a pail of water and ventured out on foot.

A decision which he was sorely regretting, but something within him told him not to turn back or he would just narrowly miss some important evidence.

His hands flew to his holstered pistols at the sudden pounding of hooves coming in fast towards Kingswood. His gaze flickered in the direction of his horse. Even if he ran, he wouldn't make it in time. And he was standing in the middle of nowhere, with no cover nearby.

He blinked, squinting into the sun as a rider came into his view, flying without hesitation into town. Suddenly the rider pulled up on the reins, stopping short some distance away from him.

Huffing a sigh, Draco drew his pistols, ready for a fight, when he saw the brunette curls, and trepidation turned to relief and then to irritation.

Hermione turned her horse in his direction, stopping to hover above him. She pulled her bandana down around her throat.

"What are you doing out here?" she hissed, her tone and expression urgent. Without waiting for a response, she asked, "Where is your horse?"

"Back near town," he said, holstering his pistols.

"Get on!" she exclaimed, turning the horse towards town. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask whether she had gone crazy, but the look she fired him had Draco tugging himself onto the back of her horse.

"What are you doing back here?" he asked, feeling inherently annoyed at the sight of her, and she tensed as he looped an arm across her stomach.

While he had hoped she had left, he had spent altogether too much time wondering where she had gone to, and whether she would ever return.

"There are a group of bandits coming after you from Sequoia," she said, her eyes focused on the path before her. Her voice was slightly muffled through her bandana. Then she glanced back. "It felt like the least I could do to come back and let you know."

"Damnit," Draco cursed, "really?"

"Really," she responded gruffly.

"I took out their leader a few weeks ago." Draco felt the need to explain, especially if she had ridden all the way back from Sequoia just to warn him.

"Yeah, I heard," she said, " _Skip_."

Draco's stomach still rolled at the mention of Skip. The world was better off.

"How many of them?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Five," she said after a moment, "and they were out for your blood." Her shoulders were tense. "Are you going to leave?"

"No," Draco scoffed. "I can take five of them."

Her neck snapped back, her eyes flashing. "No you can't," she snapped.

"I can," he said, templer flaring hotly. "Five of the Sequoia Gang? Absolutely I can. If I know they're coming I'll see them from miles off."

"You're terribly outnumbered," she hissed as she turned back to the road. The town was visible now and she turned along the outskirts.

"Just here," Draco murmured. "Thanks for the ride."

She pulled to a stop and Draco swung himself over her horse, dropping to the ground. His horse stomped the ground at the sight of him and he mounted quickly, his gaze fixed on the eastern road. If Hermione had just made it back, they wouldn't be too far behind.

He glanced at Hermione, pressing his lips together. "Thanks for the warning."

"Right," she said, her eyes fixed on the east as well. "Do you –" she made a face, turning away. "Do you want help?"

"No," Draco replied, double checking his pistols and knives were all loaded and ready to go. "I'll get to higher ground and I'll take them out, without dragging any of the mess into town. Sheriff won't even know it was me."

She huffed a breath, and Draco realized she was staring at him. She growled, "I'm coming with you."

Draco's brow furrowed as he realized she was serious. "You don't owe me a damn thing." She held firm and checked the barrel of her own pistol. "Fine, but stay at my flank and don't get in the way. I'm not looking to have your blood on my hands today."

He shifted his horse alongside hers, pointing to a bluff some distance away. "We'll go there. We'll be able to see the east road, and they won't see us until they're right below. They won't realize they're riding into an ambush until it's too late. Deal?"

"Deal," she breathed.

Draco chewed his tongue for a moment as he stared at her, then slipped his bandana back on and made for the cliff.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note _:_** Thank you to everyone who has continued to read and support this fic! xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione kept close to Double-Draw as he took his horse into a run and led her up to the bluff, from where they would have a good vantage point over anyone coming into Kingswood from the east.

Her heart raced with adrenaline as she waited. His expression was stoic but for his narrowed eyes, and she was reminded that she last time she saw him he had held a dagger to her throat and a gun to her head. As soon as this was over she would leave Kingswood again, in case he remembered how angry he was.

But the time before that he had grinned at her as he kissed her, and shared the details of his life with her. She preferred that version of him, but it looked as if Double-Draw was here to stay, as far as she was concerned.

Feeling her gaze, his eyes flickered to hers, and his expression faltered for a moment. He pressed his lips together and looked away.

"For what it's worth," Hermione breathed, "I _am_ sorry. I know you don't want to hear it."

"You're right," he snapped, "I don't."

Hermione recoiled, moving her horse away from his, but then he sighed an aggravated huff.

"I do appreciate you coming back to Kingswood to warn me," he said, and his tone was softer. "It isn't a short journey, and you didn't have to."

"I didn't really think about it, to be honest," Hermione said, her voice quiet. "I overheard them talking about you outside Sequoia Bluffs, and how you were going to be _Double-Dead_ , and I just turned back."

"Double-Dead?" he asked, raising a brow as he snickered. "That's clever. By the way, you ought not to have gone to Sequoia anyway. The Sequoia Gang run the town, and the sheriff's been corrupted, too. You won't have much success there."

"Thanks," she murmured. "I appreciate the advice. Where would you recommend, then?"

"North," he said with a shrug. "To Falcon's Ridge, or southwest to Greendale. Straight-laced towns. Not much competition, you know."

"Thanks," Hermione repeated, making a mental note.

"Not the sort of wealth you see in Kingswood, but you'll get by," he said, his eyes scanning the road again.

"Have you had any luck with the research?" Hermione asked, almost instantly regretting it as he turned to her with a raised brow. She backtracked, saying, "Out of curiosity. Because… I'd like to hope you find it. Not because I want you to drive me out of town again with a threat to my life."

He sucked his teeth for a moment, before turning to her. "I may have found something, but it hasn't turned out yet." He frowned, adjusting his hat. "Maybe I overreacted, at the archives. With threatening to kill you and all. It wasn't my place to say you shouldn't have left that morning. I guess there was just…" He trailed off, shaking his head, "Never mind."

"What?" Hermione asked, a breath caught in her throat.

He sighed, carefully looking away from her. "I guess I liked that you understood me. And for a bit, I thought maybe you were tired of being alone, too."

"And then I stole the book and left," she whispered. He nodded sharply, still gazing away from her. She breathed, "I am tired of it, too."

His eyes flickered to meet hers, but he frowned. "It doesn't matter now. It was a bit of fun for a night, and we'll be better off going our separate ways. I won't try to drive you from Kingswood again if you want to stay, but you'll be better off in one of those other towns."

Hermione opened her mouth but closed it again. She didn't want it to have only been a bit of fun for one night, she had realized that on the journey to Sequoia – but she didn't know how to tell him as much.

"Why are they after you?" she asked instead.

"Because Skip, their filthy rotten leader, decided he didn't like me, because he wasn't as well known, and he came after me." His face was dark, eyes narrowed again as they swept the horizon. "He rode here from Sequoia for the express purpose of killing me so he could say he had done it, and –" He shrugged. "I told you the rest. Survival – trigger."

"Yeah," Hermione breathed, glancing at him.

"Obviously now they've come to seek vengeance," he said, and rolled his eyes. "Do you see why I'm sick of this? Why I can't wait to get away?"

"Yes," Hermione said, and she stopped herself from reaching out to him, at the desolation on his face.

"There just has to be more to life than trying _not_ to get killed all the time," he muttered, shaking his head. "No matter. This is just survival again. And we're going to walk away from this, Hermione." He glanced at her, his expression pointed. "These are not nice men. Do not hesitate, because they won't. And don't for a second feel bad about ending any of their lives."

"I've killed men before," she breathed, even as she swallowed a lump in her throat. "You know – survival."

"Yeah," he muttered, a wry smile on his face. "Survival." His face was stoic again as he said, "There."

Hermione followed his gaze down to the east road, where a group of riders were traveling.

"Try not to hit the horses," he murmured as he nudged his horse forward. "They haven't done anything wrong, you know?"

Hermione's heart leapt into her heart at the sentiment. She suddenly hated, with vehemence, the fact that this man was trapped in this life because at his core, he hid a soft heart.

She followed slowly, keeping at his flank and slightly back, recognizing him as the leader.

"When they pass the ridge," he breathed, leaning in close, "we'll come up behind and catch them off guard." His eyes scanned the group of riders. "Eight. So they picked up a few en route."

"Eight," Hermione repeated, swallowing. "Four each."

"You wish," he muttered, glancing at her with a grin. Then he snapped, "Now!" and spurred his horse into motion.

She followed his charge down the bluff, and watched as, with a quick flourish she thought had to have been barely visible to the naked eye, he drew his pistols, and he was firing while she was still gaping, one shot after another, and Hermione spurred after him, drawing her own pistol.

Half the riders were already down by the time she caught up and began firing, but it was as if she had never seen a man fire a gun before. His two pistols worked in tandem, and one shot had barely exploded from the barrel before the next was cocked and flying.

She huffed a breath, cursing to herself as she caught the bandit nearest her trying to flee from Double-Draw's relentless firepower, and he fell sprawling to the ground.

The last bandit, turning with wide eyes back to the east road, spurred his horse onward as he fled.

She heard Double-Draw exhale loudly and he slipped his pistols into their holsters with a quick, fluid motion, and from somewhere within his pack he yanked out a Winchester rifle. In one shot the man was down.

Hermione stared, frozen, at the carnage for a moment, giving him a sidelong glance as he matter-of-factly stowed the rifle. He hopped down from his horse, rummaging in the coat pockets of the bandits nearest him.

The whole ambush had lasted less than two minutes.

Hermione glanced at him again, swallowing.

"You were saying," he finally said, "you didn't think I could take on five of them?"

"Right," she choked.

He pocketed a small sack of coins, and then tossed her another. "I think that was _seven_ and you took out one. Am I right?"

"Yes," she said, feeling a flush creep to her face. Not that she relished taking lives, but he had made her look like an amateur.

"And do you still want to see which of us would win in a draw?" he asked, even as he carried about his task. He looked up at her as he pocketed another bag of coin. "I'm not trying to be facetious. It's simply a skill I've spent many, _many_ years working on developing."

"No," Hermione said, as she followed suit and relieved the two bandits nearest her of their money. It felt odd, having scraped by for so long, to suddenly have money again. "I'm surprised you're letting me have any of this."

"Why not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "That scenario looks a lot different if I don't know about it in advance, you know." He waved a hand at the bandit who had fled. "You can go get that one."

With a look of consternation, Hermione mounted her horse and rode out to the bandit that had fled, pocketed his money, and rode back.

The horses were milling about without their riders, and a few of them had already run away.

She dismounted by his side again, opening her mouth to say something she hadn't yet thought of. But he clapped his hands together.

"We'd better go before the sheriff gets here," he said. "Thanks again for your help. I wish you luck, wherever you go."

"Thanks," Hermione said absently, her gaze flickering to his. "I'll probably find somewhere to hole up for the night and leave in the morning. Good luck with the treasure."

She wanted to ask whether he would reconsider his offer. But he nodded and tipped his hat, and as she took a step in his direction he was already mounting his horse. He glanced back, his grey eyes warm as they met hers, and yanked his bandana up.

Then with a kick, his horse flew into action, and he was gone.

* * *

Draco spent the remainder of the evening far away from Kingswood, keeping his horse nearby, as he continued his search for the well near the cache that he hoped held the founder's treasure.

The sheriff and his men would have found the downed bandits, and Draco didn't want to be anywhere nearby when that investigation began. But when it grew too dark, he ventured to the abandoned distillery shack, his gaze landing on one of the two remaining growlers of moonshine.

And a part of him wished he had company as he broke into the bottle, gazing absently at the moon. He set aside the last growler, saving it just in case he ever saw her again.

The following morning Draco went east again, scouring for any signs of the well. He kept his horse at a trot, stopping frequently to give the beast water in the scorching sun.

Exhausted, he finally gave up, marking the ground he had covered on a survey map of the area that had been in Hermione's stack of research.

He bought himself a cold ale in the saloon, absently slipping into a bar stool beside a man who frequently kept him updated on the events and happenings in Kingswood.

"They arrested the shooter they figure is responsible for the deaths of those bandits out east by the bluff," the man said without preamble.

"Good," Draco said with a disinterested flicker of his brows as he took a swig of his ale. "Who was responsible?"

The man snorted. "You mean who the _sheriff_ thinks it was. Me, I don't think she woulda been capable of somethin' like that."

"She?" Draco asked, glancing briefly at his informant.

"Pretty young thing," the man said. "New in town. Sheriff figures it was her cause she been gone and came back right about the same time. Figured the timing was suspicious like."

"The sheriff is insane," Draco scoffed. "What a ridiculous lack of proof. No _way_ she took out eight bandits."

"Unless she had help," the man said, his face amused as he looked at Draco.

Draco took a long pull of his ale. His head was spinning. "I know who you mean, but I've never met the woman. I wasn't even in Kingswood yesterday."

"Okay," the man said, nodding. "I'll be sure to remember that. In case anyone comes askin'."

"Good," Draco muttered, slamming the last of his drink as he tore from the saloon.

* * *

"You can't hold me like this," Hermione snarled at the sheriff as he picked through the assorted weapons they had taken from her. "I didn't do _anything_ you're accusing me of, and you have no proof anyways!"

Sheriff Potter merely smiled, picking up one of her daggers. She hoped he sliced himself on it.

"An awful lot of weapons for a well-meaning, law-abiding citizen," the sheriff mused. "And your Colt certainly seems to have been used."

"It was given to me like that," Hermione hissed. "I didn't kill those bandits!"

"Your return to town was highly suspect," Potter continued as if he were completely ignoring her. "The day you come back, a gang of bandits are slain. It's all very interesting."

"As if _one_ person could kill that many bandits," she scoffed. "And even if I could, _why_? I have no motive!"

"We will determine your motive," Sheriff Potter said, his tone entitled and infuriatingly calm.

Hermione wanted to reach through the bars and strangle him. She couldn't believe this. She had simply been minding her own business, intending to visit the saloon for an ale before finding somewhere to spend the night.

The only stroke of luck was that she had consolidated the small money sacks from the bandits into her own pouch and tossed the rest, so it didn't look as if she had robbed multiple people.

But being grabbed in the middle of the street, for a crime she – _mostly_ – didn't commit was preposterous!

And the worst part was that the only person she knew in this whole blasted town was pacing the desert looking for something he would likely never find.

The sheriff spun on the balls of his feet, turning to face her. "You say you didn't slaughter eight people."

"No, I didn't," she grit through her teeth, clutching the bars with angry white knuckles.

"I don't suppose, then, you know who _did_." Hermione narrowed her eyes at his cheesy grin, wishing she could smack it from his face.

"Of course I don't know," she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean it: you have the _wrong_ person. And I sincerely question the powers that put you in a position of authority in this town."

Potter's obnoxious smile faltered for a moment. He stepped away and spoke to one of his constables and Hermione wished she could burn a hole through his skull with her eyes.

Making sure no one was looking in her direction, Hermione checked the dagger she knew they had missed – the one sheathed to her leg beneath a pocket in her trousers that had a false bottom. The feel of the cold handle was reassuring in her hand.

The sheriff bustled back over and she quickly removed her hand from the weapon, collapsing against the wall of the cell.

She would bide her time, for now… and then Sheriff Potter would regret throwing her in this cage.

* * *

Draco cursed under his breath as he lay flat on the roof of the house across the street from the Kingswood jail.

It was definitely Hermione they had taken, and he smirked to himself at the fuss she seemed to be making. She was definitely a firecracker. He would have given Potter hell too if it had been him.

He refocused his binoculars as she moved out of view of the window he was using as his vantage point into the jail. Settling back on the roof, Draco pondered his options as he chewed a piece of cured meat.

He could leave her to her own devices and hope Potter would eventually realize it couldn't have been her and release her. But if he didn't – if he was trying to prove a point – she could end up stuck in there, and Draco didn't trust any of the prison guards to leave her alone. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of what any of them could do to her, given she had been clearly disarmed.

He was itching to return to the desert, and continue his hunt for the storage cache.

But she had ridden all the way back from Sequoia just to warn him about the bandits, and it was technically _his_ fault she was in there. Had she not done that, had he still been angry with her, he would have left her to rot.

But he owed her this.

It would be a simple matter of strategizing. Perhaps some bribery or blackmail – but Draco hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. He wanted to keep his nose out of the situation as much as possible, and if he started poking about and involving other people, he would be putting himself in the spotlight.

It would be swiping the keys from a guard during the shift change, or slipping her something she could use to break herself out.

Draco focused the binoculars through the barred window again. He could see her weapons still laid out on the table in the office outside of her cell. One gun, four daggers.

Draco blinked, staring closer. Their night together in the grass had been heavily influenced by moonshine, but Draco thought she'd had more. _Four_ daggers.

Hermione was standing again, idly glancing through the window as if she were bored.

She'd had _five_ blades that night.

"Good girl," Draco whispered to himself as he stared at her through the binoculars.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note _:_** Thanks for the lovely feedback on this story so far! As I mentioned in the first chapter, Dust is sort of a collection of stories, the first being their adventures in Kingswood. It's looking like this part will conclude around 8-9 chapters, with future stories to be written if there is interest at that point. Thanks for reading!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Draco maintained his vigil on the roof well into the evening and past sundown. Years worth of what had seemed to be unnecessary studying of the prison guards would finally – he hoped – come in handy.

It was the time of night where the two guards would change with two others – but the shift was staggered by a quarter of an hour. One would leave, and the second would stay an additional fifteen minutes.

That was where Draco would find his window. So long as he could delay the first guard of the incoming shift.

As the first guard left the prison, Draco would thieve his keys and skip them through the barred window. From there, Draco would have to somehow knock out the incoming guard, and simultaneously cause a diversion to distract the remaining guard _ending_ his shift.

It would give Hermione the time she needed to escape. Hopefully _without_ needing to use her hidden dagger.

Draco hadn't been able to alert her to the fact that he was plotting her escape, so he could only hope she would catch on because he wouldn't have time to explain while he needed to detain the new guard and distract the old one.

Draco released a sharp exhale as the first guard made to leave the jail. Draco scaled down the side of the building, tilting his hat as low as he could manage. Slipping his bandana over his face would be too suspicious.

"Pardon me, sir," he murmured as he bumped into the guard. "I ought to pay closer attention."

The guard grimaced with irritation but then nodded. Draco tipped his hat as he carried on.

 _Too_ easy.

He crept around the back of the jail, peering through the window to be sure the remaining guard wasn't watching and slipped the ring of keys onto the ledge of the window. He hissed, alerting Hermione to his presence, and her eyes were wide as they met his, her fingers instantly wrapping the keys into a fist.

"Wait," he whispered. "Until the guard goes outside."

With a subtle nod, she turned her back to the window, and Draco returned to his rooftop lookout. He had to do this all without drawing attention to himself, and without _killing any guards_.

It was one thing for the sheriff to be lax about an investigation into the deaths of bandits, but his own guards would be a different story.

Besides, the guards weren't pointing guns at him. Not _yet_ , anyway.

A few minutes later, Draco watched as the new guard turned onto the street. He climbed down, and cursing his lack of creativity, he caught the guard to the back of the head with a rock. Hard enough to knock him out, but not to do any permanent damage.

It didn't _need_ to be his finest performance, it just had to buy Hermione time to get herself free.

The last guard would be waiting for his relief to show before he would leave. And his relief was currently knocked out in a dark alley.

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco wrenched out a pistol and fired two shots into the sky, away from the jail.

He stowed the pistol, creeping around the back of the jail just in time to see the third guard stalk from the station, gun held out before him.

He hoped Hermione was _moving_.

He snuck around the back of the prison, drawing his bandana up in case the guard returned and was relieved to see Hermione unlocking the door to her cell. It took her a few tries but Draco let out an anxious breath when the door swung free.

She met his gaze with a disbelieving smile.

"Hurry up, we won't have long," he hissed, tucking himself into a shadowy corner, drawing a dagger free from his boot. "Get your bag and weapons."

With a sharp nod, her gaze swept the jail. "I can't find my bag," she whispered.

"It's there," Draco hissed, spotting it on a shelf. She quickly crossed the station and grabbed it, checking the inside briefly. "Gun, knives."

She moved surely around the station, looking for her weapons, but Draco kept his anxious gaze on the door, certain the guard could come back in at any point, having realized Draco's diversion was illegitimate.

Hermione whispered to herself as she dug around on the shelves, hissing as she finally located her weapons. She swept the lot of them into her bag, tossing her holster on top, and met Draco's eyes with a nod.

Draco followed the wall until he was behind the door, and he watched in horror as Hermione's eyes widened.

She backed up, her gaze fixed on something in front of her, and Draco knew the guard was back.

"How did you get out!" the man exclaimed, advancing towards her.

Without thinking twice, Draco darted forward from behind the door where he had been concealed and knocked the guard on the back of the head, hard, with the butt end of his dagger.

As the guard hit the ground in a heap, Draco hissed, " _Run_!" and Hermione skirted out of the prison, her eyes sweeping the street.

A loud commotion was occurring down the road where someone had apparently found the knocked out guard.

"For crying out loud," Draco muttered. He shot Hermione a glare as she snickered despite the tension of the situation. "Not a word. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to _plan_ this. Admittedly, it isn't my finest work – now go! My horse is the next street over."

Walking as casually as possible so as not to seem as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime, they made their way onto the next street and Draco mounted his horse, tugging Hermione up behind him.

"You're going to have to leave town," he muttered, "but we'll lie low for the night."

He felt her nod against his back, her arms wrapping around his stomach. After a moment's hesitation, Draco dropped a hand onto hers, his fingers grazing her knuckles.

"My horse is at the edge of town," she murmured, and Draco sighed.

"You're going to have to be quick," he instructed, speaking quickly as he half-turned to face her. "People will still be coming in and out of the saloon, and word might have reached Potter by the time we get there. Untie your horse and head east. I'll wait for you at the edge of town and we'll go to the abandoned distillery."

"Yes," she said, "my weapons are all at the bottom of my bag."

Draco drew one of his pistols and handed it to her. "Just in case. Until we get out."

He heard a soft giggle and felt her bury her face in his neck. "Double-Draw's own pistol," she teased.

'It's a temporary loan," he hissed, turning his horse onto the main road. He reined the horse to a sudden stop where hers was tied up and Hermione leapt off, her hands making quick work of the knots in her horse's rope.

People were milling about in the street, looking and pointing in their direction and Draco tugged his hat lower, turning his horse and pushing to the town limits and beyond.

Draco glanced back to ensure Hermione was close behind him, and she was – but so were two guards.

Hermione pulled up alongside him and met his gaze, her brow furrowed. She held his pistol tightly in one hand as she gripped the reins, not having a holster in which to stow it.

"Change of plans," Draco shouted across the air between them. The last thing he needed was to lead the guards directly to his current hideout. "Follow me!"

She nodded, and Draco veered into a sharp turn west, sensing her moving at his flank.

He spurred his horse into top speed, leading Hermione from Kingswood into the maze of dried river beds, canyons, and hills that made up the topography beyond the town. It was here they would lose the guards – here in the land of dust that Draco knew better than anyone.

Hermione, to her credit, kept up with his every twist and turn, her speed and agility matching his evenly.

And the guards began to fade and fall back, until finally they were gone and Draco brought his horse to a halt high atop a ridge overlooking the largest canyon in the area, lit in the most spectacular way by the light of a nearly full moon.

"I don't think you're going to be able to go back into Kingswood either," Hermione breathed as her horse came up beside his.

"Good," Draco mused, "but that means we'll simply have to find the founders' treasure sooner than later."

"You rescinded the offer," she murmured, staring out over the canyon. She looked beautiful in the light of the moon.

"I'm reinstating it again," Draco said, his voice gruff. "If you want."

Her warm, chocolate brown eyes met his. "Yes, I want."

"Good," Draco smirked and she offered him a winning smile.

"And we'll split the gold evenly?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Yes." He debated saying something else. But despite having saved her, he wasn't certain whether she still didn't trust him. "Shall we go? There's one full growler of moonshine left."

She laughed, a smile brightening her face. "Let's save it until we find the treasure."

"When we find the treasure, we'll be able to afford better alcohol than that," Draco snickered.

"Then it'll be symbolic," she breathed, then gave him a wry smile. "A reminder of the time you stole my book so I stole it back and you nearly killed me."

"You make it sound like I was being ridiculous," Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't care for the way you went about things."

He could tell by the look on her face that she understood his words went deeper, beyond her thievery of the book, and his mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Maybe," she said, softly, "you'll give me a second chance to do things differently."

Draco trailed his fingers along her forearm and she grasped his hand for a moment before releasing it. Staring at her, he said, "Maybe."

She chewed her bottom lip, then grinned. "Let's go. I'll race you!"

And she was gone, leading her horse back through the winding, twisted maze of roads they had taken. Cursing, Draco spurred his horse into motion, chasing after her, despite that he suspected she would probably get lost.

Then he would decide whether he would take pity on her or not.

* * *

"I don't know, but I seem to recall you saying you would leave Kingswood in shame if you ever needed my help," Draco said, chuckling to himself as he scrounged some food for the two of them to eat.

"Well I've left Kingswood now, haven't I?" she asked, making a face.

"Hardly," Draco said, frowning as the only food he found was stale. "You're still in the general vicinity, which doesn't count. And I see no shame on your face. I'm disappointed."

"I _also_ recall _you_ saying if I got into trouble you wouldn't help me," she met his eyes with a smirk.

"You're right," Draco said, hesitating as he glanced up at her. "Get out."

She swatted him in the side. "Here," she muttered, tossing her bag at him. Draco's brows flew up at the sight of the fresh produce in her bag.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked, sorting through it. Something clenched tightly in his chest at the sight of so much greenery, the likes of which he hadn't seen around Kingswood in years since the groundwater situation had become worrisome. In a matter of time, Draco suspected food would be increasingly hard to come by.

"I met some farmers about half a day's ride north-east of Sequoia, in a valley," she muttered, biting the end off of a carrot. She shrugged. "The farmland was mostly dried up, but they had a small garden. I was out of food and water, and they helped me."

Draco's brow furrowed, feeling a spasm of guilt in his gut. He had forced her out of town with virtually no supplies.

"A valley north of Sequoia," he muttered to himself. "Interesting. Not that I want to go anywhere near Sequoia."

"Are you going to tell me what you learned about the treasure?" she asked, dropping into a chair as Draco inspected and prepared some of her vegetables.

"Yes," he responded delicately, raising a brow at her. He tossed her the stack of research from his bag. "The founders used a cache to communicate and transport illicit goods with the smugglers in the area at the time. This _cache_ was buried in the ground east of town."

"That's what you've been looking for," she breathed. "But obviously without any luck."

"The only defining factor I've found is that the cache was near a well, which will likely be boarded up, maybe demolished." Draco frowned.

"Let's hope they didn't go to the effort to demolish it," Hermione said, flipping through the pages of notes. "Well, I suppose we ought to start looking first thing. We might have better luck with two people."

"I've kept track of where I've already been," Draco said absently, dishing up two plates. Hermione nodded, locating the survey map.

"Good," she said, "that will be helpful." She set the map aside, her head tilting. "I wonder if there are other signifiers that might suggest where a well would have been."

"My initial thought was that if a well had been covered, it would feel or sound hollow," Draco said, shaking his head. "But presumably so much dirt has piled on top of anything from that long ago. And with the ground as hard and dried as it is…"

"Understood," she murmured. "Well, all we can do it keep looking, then. And hopefully if – _when_ – we find this cache, we'll find the founders' gold."

"Cheers to that," Draco grumbled, waving his water skin. With a smile, she bumped his with her own.

"So have you been staying here long?" Hermione asked, looking up at him from her water. "Since we found it?"

"Not every night," Draco said with a shrug. "I tend to move around. But a few. That's why the food is pretty well gone."

Her brows flickered, and Draco suspected the question was a loaded one.

"And have you been sleeping in the grass?" she murmured, her lips twitching.

Draco stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"There's a bed in the other room, and I found some fresh linens," he said slowly, uncertain as to what she was alluding. "You can have it if you like. I'll sleep outside."

While their night together had been fun, Draco wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to go down that road again. And he wasn't positive where she stood, either, but he decided he should probably figure out.

"Sure," Hermione said, taking a bite of her vegetables. She flashed him a toothy smile. "Thanks."

"Right," Draco said, feeling oddly affected. His gaze flickered to hers as he fought a smirk. "I suppose you don't sleep in the grass without being drunk on moonshine first."

"I've slept in the grass plenty," she clipped, though there was something cool in her gaze as she looked at him. "Take the bed, then, if you care so much."

" _I_ don't care about the bed," Draco said, waving a dismissive hand. "I just want to be sure you're… comfortable."

He took a bite, his teeth dragging along the tines of his fork.

"It's probably big enough for two, one should think," she said, glancing away from him.

Draco shrugged, his expression stoic. So she _did_ want it to happen again. It was useful information. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure it probably is."

"So," Hermione said, her voice quiet, "we could probably share it. Provided, you know. It wouldn't make you uncomfortable."

Draco leveled her with a gaze intended to make her squirm, and it didn't disappoint. "I'm not sure whether I've had enough moonshine for you to proposition me." He smirked, taking a drink of his water. "You keep the bed."

Her eyes narrowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Fine."

"Good," Draco said with a chuckle. "Here's another thing: if you're going to be evading the sheriff and killing bandits, you'll need your own outlaw nickname, don't you think?"

She blinked at the rapid change of topic: really, Draco simply hadn't decided whether he wanted to pursue that option with her or not. The last time he'd slept with her she'd robbed him and left him alone, and Draco had dealt with the unfortunate backlash that went along with allowing himself to care about someone.

Then she shrugged. "I'm not notorious like you are. Where did you get _your_ name?"

"An old rival gang," Draco said, not wanting to get into the details of it. "Their leader tried taking over Kingswood once. They've moved on."

"Moved on," she mused. "On their horses, or into the ground?"

Draco's lips twitched. "The smart ones went south."

"Noted," Hermione murmured. "Well, you'll have to give me a name, then. I can't very well give myself one, can I?"

"No," Draco said, finishing the last of his meal. "I'll think of something."

"Fine," Hermione said, her voice oddly high pitched as she rose to clear the dishes from the table. "We ought to determine where we'll go tomorrow, don't you think?"

"Along here," Draco said without hesitation, gesturing to the next bit of map he intended to search. "It's the most logical, and then we can work outwards along this line." He drew the direction with his finger on the map.

Her face flushed as she nodded.

"Great," she said, her smile bright and forced. "In that case, I'm quite tired. Good night." With an awkward sort of wave, she vanished into the second room, closing the door behind her.

Draco's narrowed eyes remained fixed on the closed door long after she had vanished into it. She had effectively left the decision up to him, and Draco didn't care for it.

Finally, huffing a sigh, he left the shack through the back door, finding the partial third growler of moonshine. The fourth was set aside for when they found the treasure, but this one – well, this one would help Draco forget about the woman in the next room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note _:_** Thank you for the love on this story! I know it's a little different so I really appreciate everyone for reading and especially those who have left their feedback. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Hermione's horse pawed the ground as she paced the hard, cracked ground within Double-Draw's designated area for the day. He had kept his distance since they had awoken that morning, and a hot flush crept to her cheeks at the way she had sort of almost propositioned him.

 _Clearly_ , he was no longer interested.

He looked groggy as if he hadn't slept well, or perhaps he'd been into the moonshine again. And so Hermione, following his lead, had given him a wide berth as well. But that didn't mean she was willing to let him entirely out of her sight.

While he had been insistent they would split the treasure, fresh from evading the chase of the sheriff's guards, Hermione suspected the story would be different without the hot rush of adrenaline.

She wanted to trust him, and to believe his words – but the last time they had started to get close, he had ended up threatening her life and stealing her research.

Not that _she_ had been entirely innocent in that exchange, either.

Sighing, she carried on. The _land to the east_ was an incredibly vague measure of distance, especially given Kingswood was one of the largest towns in the area. It could take days to find any sign of this well, and for all she knew it could be beneath layers of packed earth. Her horse could be standing on it _right now_.

She cast a furtive glance in the direction where she could see the vague outline of Double-Draw in the scorching sun. Soon it would be unbearably hot, and there was no cover in sight.

If Double-Draw truly meant it when he said he would share the treasure with her, she ought to consider the reverse if she happened to stumble on the gold while he was preoccupied, despite that the idea of keeping it all offered a certain appeal. And besides, he would hunt her down and give her a bullet to the head if he ever found her.

She would be best off to simply cooperate, take her half, and then part ways with the outlaw on neutral terms. Not that Hermione would have said no, should he show interest in another shared night between them, before they parted.

But no matter.

They had to _find_ the blasted treasure first.

* * *

Draco pulled the surveyor's map from his bag as he stopped to give his horse water, his eyes quickly scanning the area left to explore.

A pit of dread had settled in Draco's stomach at the thought that he might have already passed over it. Realistically, they could cover twice as much ground with two people, but if the well was truly hidden, it wouldn't matter.

For good measure, Draco jumped and stomped hard on the ground where he stood. It felt entirely solid, and unless he intended to break his knees and ankles by stomping across the whole area, it wouldn't be a viable way to find anything.

His eyes narrowed in thought. There had to be _some_ evidence of a well, or a cache, or a _pail_ even –

Draco froze, and his gaze instinctively swept to where Hermione was trailing around some distance away, her shoulders slumped in dismay.

He'd barely said two words to her that morning, not wanting to distract himself. It had been bad enough he had fought with himself over joining her in bed all night, and had subsequently drank himself into a stupor on the third growler, managing only a couple hours of sleep before the sun was up.

The pail. His gaze flickered to the pail he had carried around for his horse for over a year now. He had found it sitting around, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, to the east of Kingswood.

He couldn't remember exactly where, of course, but –

He scanned the map again. They hadn't explored that far yet. He dug in his bag for the bit of charcoal he had been using to track his progress and crossed off the area he hadn't reached yet today.

Then he packed his things and mounted his horse.

* * *

Hermione's head snapped to the right as Double-Draw mounted his horse and took off. Cursing to herself, she adjusted her bandana and raced after him.

If he had found something there was _no_ _chance_ she wasn't going to be there.

"What are you doing?" she hissed when she caught up. Double-Draw was standing on the hard earth beside his horse, looking deep in thought.

He held up a hand, his head tilted towards the ground. His horse was stomping about, creating a ruckus, and a breath caught in Hermione's throat as she dismounted and stood beside him.

"I found this pail," he said, in no more than a whisper, "around here. About a year ago. I only just remembered."

"You think it came from a well," Hermione breathed.

"Could have," he said with a shrug. "But it's better than combing this entire plain with nothing but a hope."

"You're right," Hermione said. She lifted one boot and slammed it hard into the earth, cringing as the impact jarred through to her hip. "Do you really think it will sound differently? Even after so many years' worth of dust and dirt piled up on top?"

"I hope so," he said, squinting as he looked up at the sun, and then adjusted his stetson lower. "Again, it's better than nothing."

With a shrug Hermione set to work scouring her area, one eye fixed firmly on Double-Draw some distance away, and as the sun climbed higher into the sky, the air grew sweltering. She could see the heat rising from the packed and cracked earth, and by late afternoon she was so exhausted from the heat she had to stop. The horses had been left with the pail of water, and she made her way back towards the meeting spot.

Double-Draw arrived a few minutes later, drinking what seemed to be the last of his water, dust mingled with sweat on his face.

"No luck," he said, breathing heavy. "And I'm out of water. I'm not going to chance heading into Kingswood in case the sheriff has pieced everything together, but we should be able to sneak some from one of the houses on the outskirts."

"Fine," Hermione said with a shrug. "I'm nearly out, too."

"We'll have to carry on tomorrow," he said, fixing her with a hard stare. "I'll mark the sections we've covered today when we get back to the shack."

"See if we can't find some food, too," Hermione suggested. He nodded absently, scanning the horizon, then stepped towards his horse and secured his pack and supplies.

"Let's go, then," he muttered, swinging himself up onto his horse and taking off. Rolling her eyes, Hermione hurried to follow.

* * *

They had managed to find water and food for an evening meal easily enough, and since Hermione had been dismayed to learn he had finished the third growler of moonshine by himself the night before, Draco swiped a growler of ale from the house they had robbed, its occupants presumably still in town for the day.

So after their meal, Draco had cleaned out two flagons and poured them both a cup of ale.

"Tell me something," Hermione said, gesturing with her ale. "How do you _always_ beat me everywhere? And how did you always know where I was going?"

Draco shrugged, not wanting to divulge his secrets, although he supposed he would be leaving Kingswood regardless at this point. "I know the town a lot better than you. I heard most of the same tips as you – in fact, I heard more of them because I have a network in town, while you operate alone."

"So you deliberately selected the ones you knew I was going for, in order to thwart me," she accused, eyes narrowed.

Draco shrugged, offering her a petulant smirk.

"You rodent," she snapped. "You're like a sneaky ferret. You couldn't have just –"

"I know," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I'm rotten. I get it." He chewed his tongue, then took a long swig of his ale. "And for the record, you'll never beat me. The _only_ reason you even found this distillery shack before me that day was because I had a better tip and knew this would likely yield very little."

"Okay, so how?" she hissed, her brown eyes flashing as they settled on his.

He gave her a lazy grin. "The rooftops, dear Hermione. I have spent _years_ learning my way across the roofs, and arranging my route just as I want it. Where I can and can't jump, where I can climb, where I've needed to haul up a plank to get across. I can get _anywhere_ in Kingswood in minutes."

She stared at him, her mouth half open, and Draco's eyes fell on her lips for a moment.

"I don't recommend you try it, though," he added, clearing his throat. "Lots of roofs in town with rotten boards. I reckon you could hurt yourself."

She scowled at him until she had finished her drink, then poured herself another glass. Finally she whispered, as if to herself, "the rooftops."

"The rooftops," Draco repeated, tossing back the last of his own mug. "You ought to be careful. The last time you drank too much around me…" He smirked.

She raised a brow, staring at him. " _I'm_ the one who needs to be careful? Obviously, I offered last night, didn't I?"

"You offered to share the bed," Draco clarified, gesturing with his cup. "Which you'll note, _I_ didn't have a problem keeping to myself, even having drunk half a growler of moonshine."

"So I don't need to be careful if you have so little interest –"

"You said to share the _bed_ , there was no mention of interest!" Draco said, staring at her with raised brows. "How was I supposed to know what you meant?"

He had read it all over her face the night before, of course, but it was so much _fun_ to get her riled up.

Her cheeks tinged red, and she glared at him once more. "Well, if you had read between the lines," she said, looking humiliated.

"I'm a simple outlaw, Hermione," Draco said, with mocking innocence. "I so infrequently spend time with company, you know."

"Right," she snorted, "I'm sure _that's_ true."

"So _if_ you want me in your bed tonight, you're going to have to _ask_ ," Draco snickered. Her face dropped, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Otherwise, like I said yesterday, I'm more than fine sleeping in the grass outside."

"You're welcome to sleep in the bed," she sniffed, "but I'm not going to _ask_. You're irritating enough without that boost to the ego."

"Well then," Draco murmured. "Perhaps I will. Sleep in the bed, that is, and nothing more."

He poured himself another glass of ale, offering her a sardonic smile.

"Fine," she seethed, taking a long drink. "Do that, or don't, I'm not bothered."

Her logic wasn't making sense, and Draco suspected the ale had begun to hit her. He also suspected they were both talking one another in circles. "Then I'm not bothered, either. But you're more than welcome to ask if you want to do _more_ than share the bed."

"No," she said, her tone airy. "You've made it clear that this is a business arrangement, and once we find the treasure you'll be gone."

"All the more reason to have some fun while you can," Draco said, flickering his brows.

Her expression was haughty again. "It isn't as if I _struggle_."

"Well, neither do I," Draco clipped. She didn't need to know he hadn't met a woman he'd been interested in for a long time. And that he wasn't the type to visit the saloon for companionship.

"Fine, it's settled then," Hermione said, taking another long swig, and with a start, Draco realized her fresh cup was half gone already. "Since neither of us are interested in sex, we can be perfectly reasonable and share the one and only bed, without it turning into a problem."

Draco snickered and shook his head. He didn't remember her being so amusing the last time they had drunk together, but she had been far more melancholy that night. "I never said _I_ wasn't interested in sex."

She threw her hands up in exasperation.

Draco pulled the map from his bag, wanting to make note of the area they had covered that day before he got too far into the ale and forgot. She glowered as she watched, but then her expression softened as her eyes fixed on the map.

"Where did you find the pail?" she asked, her finger hovering over the area.

"Around here," Draco said, grabbing her finger to drop it down at the approximate site. "And this is where we were today." He navigated her finger into a small circle around the first region. "Tomorrow we'll continue further north and see if we can't find something."

"What if it isn't there?" she asked, her face falling. "Or it's buried and we've walked right over top of it."

"Then at least you've been able to spend all this time with me," Draco said, flashing her a grin.

She raised an unimpressed brow but didn't retract her finger from within his clenched palm. Testing the waters, Draco ran his thumb across the back of her hand, then upwards to take hold of her wrist, his fingers playing along her arm.

She stared at him, subconsciously moistening her lips. Then she tore her arm away and sunk back into her seat, tossing back the remains of her drink. Draco snickered and took a swig of his own.

"Suppose I'd rather the gold," she finally said, folding her arms across her chest. She removed her hat and tossed it onto the table, her curly hair wild.

Draco grasped his chest, feigning a wounded heart. "You'd rather money over my company."

"Yes," she said, her tone dismissive as she poured a third glass.

Draco leaned forward, meeting her gaze. "What if you could have both?"

She scrunched up her nose, but her chocolate eyes remained fixed on his. "Your company is… rather irritating." Her eyes belied her words as they dropped to his lips.

"So if I left Kingswood and went north," he said, swirling the remains of his drink. "You would go elsewhere?"

"Do you know what lies to the north?" she asked, raising a brow again. Draco nodded, finishing his drink. "Then… maybe."

"Using me for my navigational prowess," Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "Cutthroat, aren't you?"

"Says the man who has threatened to kill me multiple times, and held a gun to my head twice," she mused. "Of the two of us, you're the infamous bandit."

"And you know I'm not actually that bad," Draco said, pointing a finger at her. He finished his drink, but something in her words had settled into his soul in an unnerving way. He didn't feel like drinking anymore. "Think about it. We don't make a terrible team, you know."

She shrugged. "I'll consider it."

"Fine," Draco said, rising from his seat. "But since I was so kindly offered a spot in the bed, I'm going to sleep."

She blinked twice, then stared down at her drink. She tossed the last of it back, then stood as well. "You're leaving?"

"Yes," Draco said, dropping his hat on the table beside hers. He tugged his bandana over his head, and set it on top of his hat. He removed his boots, leaving them in the kitchen. Then he made his way into the next room, divesting himself of his weapons and stacking them in a pile on the nightstand.

Hermione followed him to the doorway, her brow furrowed as she chewed her lip.

"I hope you don't mind if I sleep nude."

Her eyes narrowed, even as her cheeks flushed red again. "Actually I do mind."

Draco fixed her with a stare, his lips pursed. "You didn't mind last time. And you said you didn't care about sex, so…" He trailed off, slipping the buttons of his vest, then his shirt, and then he unfastened his trousers. He turned his head to the side. "You know, I don't mind if you watch, but you _could_ participate."

She jolted, having been staring blankly. "Please leave your shorts on."

"Fine," Draco said, letting out a long sigh. "And for the record, if you touch a single one of my weapons you'll find my Colt to your head for the third time."

"I'm not going to touch your weapons," she hissed, loosening the tie on her own bandana. "But it goes both ways."

"If I wanted your daggers I would have taken them already," Draco said, waving a dismissive hand. "Although if I had a third holster, I would probably take your pistol."

She spluttered, glaring at him.

"Relax," he drawled, "I remember you being more fun than this." Huffing, she turned away as she undressed, and Draco rolled his eyes as he settled into the bed. "Remember, I've seen you naked?"

"That doesn't mean you're going to see again," she said.

Draco felt his eyes slide to the creamy skin of her back, watching her hands as she tugged those tight trousers from her legs, and he remembered the way her skin had felt beneath his hands. He swallowed, shifting himself beneath the covers.

In the partial darkness, Draco could see as she undressed to her underwear, then slid into the bed, her back still facing him.

He remained on his back, his gaze flickering to her bare shoulder. "Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," she returned, looking over her shoulder to see him.

Draco was so aware of her he had to shift several times to get comfortable. Everything within him screamed to reach out and touch her – he didn't think she would object.

But he had given her such a hard time, and she no longer _appeared_ interested, so maybe he had lost his window. Then she rolled onto her other side, fixing him with her gaze. Draco's eyes dropped to the swell of her breasts just visible above the line of the blanket.

"You aren't going to _pretend_ you shifted over in your sleep, are you?" she asked, her eyes half-lidded. "Am I going to wake up with you poking me?"

Draco smirked, even as he sat on his hands. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, you're being awfully weird about not having sex."

"You're the one who implied you don't need me," he said with a shrug. His voice dropped to a whisper and he carried on, "I told you, you only need to ask."

"I'm not going to ask," she breathed. Her gaze met his in the dark, the light of the moon coming through the window making her seem paler than usual.

Draco felt another jolt to the chest but he forced a smirk. Perhaps she was never truly going to open up to him. Maybe he didn't _want_ her to go north with him after all. He hoped they would find the treasure tomorrow so he could go. "Then I hope you have a nice sleep."

He rolled onto his far side, facing away from her, and he could have sworn his body's awareness of her grew even stronger, every instinct screaming as he exposed his back to her.

He heard the sound of her breathing, closer than he had anticipated, but she didn't say anything more. He pressed his eyes shut, hoping sleep would be merciful and claim him soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note _:_** Thank you as always for the feedback on this story. It's so greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you're enjoying!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Draco's eyes fluttered open. Out of instinct, he took stock of his situation. He was in a warm bed – it wasn't the most comfortable but he rarely found a bed to sleep in. His head felt a bit heavy but it wasn't as bad as it had been the day before.

He wasn't alone. He recalled the semi-drunken debate he'd had with Hermione the night before about sharing the bed, and how she had demanded he refrain from touching her.

 _That_ had obviously been a failure, if the way she was on his side of the bed was any indication, not to mention the placement of his hands.

One of his hands rested on her hip, while the other appeared to be against the flat of her stomach, just below the underside of her breasts. His body was also hyper-aware of her, and he hesitated to move too much, lest she awaken and notice.

It would be a long day dealing with her if she woke up in such a compromised position.

But just then she stirred, and in a half-aware state, she shifted backward, closer to Draco, so that her back was nearly against his chest. He was torn between simply releasing her, and relishing in the feel of a mostly naked woman in his arms.

She tensed, her shoulders tightening as her head turned to the side. Draco could see the furrow of her brow as her gaze shot behind her.

"You're on my side," Draco quantified before she could get angry, but even so, he couldn't resist skimming his fingers across the skin of her solar plexus, his knuckles grazing beneath her breast.

To Draco's surprise, she didn't immediately move away; her eyelids fluttered and a quiet sound escaped her lips at the feel of it.

Damnit if he couldn't make up his mind about her.

He trailed the tips of his fingers across her skin again, and she arched her back against him, her hair landing in his face. With his free hand, he tucked a handful of her hair beneath her head, and his hand on her stomach drifted up to catch one of her breasts.

"I thought," she gasped, "this wasn't going to happen again."

"It was your decision," Draco murmured, pressing his lips to the exposed curve of her throat. "Because you know where I stand."

She groaned as his fingers tweaked her nipple, and ground back against him. He caught her shoulder with his teeth, tugging her closer.

"Last time," she breathed, "you tried to kill me because I left. It probably isn't a good idea."

Draco froze, his hands stilling on her flesh. "Are you planning on leaving again?" He shifted away slightly. "Because if you are, go ahead. It'll leave the treasure for me."

"I don't know where I'm going after Kingswood," she clarified. "I'm not used to having someone else around."

"You could _try_ ," Draco said, even as he rolled out of bed, slipping on his trousers and shirt. He paused, sitting on the edge of the bed, and a creeping dread seized his chest again. What was _wrong_ with him, that he was so desperate to let her in. "I'm not used to it, either. But I was willing to see, if you wanted to come with me, after all this."

She blinked up at him, clutching the blankets to her chest. "You want someone to ride away into the sunset with you."

"And that isn't you," Draco clipped, rising again, and he finished dressing, anxious to be away from her. "Right, I've got it."

"Draco –" she tried, but he merely flickered his eyebrows and sheathed his daggers, flipping his guns in an efficient movement and slipping them into their holsters. "I don't know yet."

"Well, you've given me enough of an answer," Draco said, clenching his jaw, his gaze fixed on the floor. "If I'm not worth the effort, then don't bother yourself over it. We'll just find this treasure and go our separate ways for good."

He made for the kitchen where his boots and hat still sat. He knew things between them were complicated and that she was indecisive – he was too – but he was wary to end up hurt again. Unless she made up her mind, it was in his best interests to keep to himself.

He merely said, "We're leaving in five minutes," before going outside to prepare his horse.

The sooner this was all over with, and Draco could part ways with her, the better.

* * *

Hermione adjusted her bandana higher on her face as she paced the region near where they hoped to find the well. The sun was sweltering already, blazing down on her, and the wind had picked up to the point where she was half-blinded by the swirling clouds of dust.

She knew Double-Draw wasn't far away but she could scarcely see him as the loose top layer lifted from the hard ground. It would make finding anything today next to impossible.

And Hermione didn't know that she could handle another evening in that shack with him. Not with the way things between them currently sat.

He had grown on her, and Hermione could admit that now to herself. But she didn't know whether she could be what he was looking for. It had been so long since Hermione had been able to trust anyone – and to be fair, their pseudo-relationship had been off to a rocky start, between the rivalry and the death threats.

So now, even as she found herself growing to care about the bandit with the rugged exterior and the soft heart, she didn't know how much of herself she could give.

But yet… there was a part of her that wanted to dive head first and see where life would take her, with him at her side. To find the treasure together and ride off wherever he wanted, and to see what sort of adventures they would find.

It would be nice not to be alone – and some part deep within her soul _longed_ for the chance to have someone with her. But she hadn't let anyone in since her parents had been killed, and the feeling now was so foreign that Hermione didn't know how to face it.

He had been straightforward with her and honest from the start. She admired him for it when she was so reticent at the thought of doing the same.

Because surely, given all he had been through – it would be just as easy for him to have grown hard and cold over the years.

Steeling herself, Hermione resolved to make more of an effort.

She caught sight of him in the distance, and a smile came to her lips beneath the bandana. A life with him _was_ something she wanted to explore – and she had been cowardly to deny the fact. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

* * *

Draco uttered a string of curses, pulling his hat lower to minimize the amount of dust that was flying into his eyes. It was even coming through his bandana and his mouth felt dry, the earthen taste lingering on his tongue.

With the way the dust storm was accumulating, they would be lucky to make it into the afternoon before they would have to retreat and take cover. Which meant more time alone in the shack with Hermione, and Draco didn't relish the thought.

If it wasn't for the fact that Draco couldn't return to Kingswood – now that he was likely wanted for assisting in the escape of a criminal – and he needed the gold from the cache, he probably would have retrieved his horse and left.

Because based on how things had gone the night before, and that morning, there was little hope for anything with Hermione. She didn't know what she wanted, but it most likely wasn't him. Draco had to simply accept it and cut his losses. He had been _fine_ on his own for so many years, and he would be fine after they went their separate ways.

He would find some shelter outside of the distillery shack if it meant he didn't need to deal with her or his burgeoning feelings. He had likely made a fool of himself pining after her, and it was one of the things Draco hated the most.

Frustrated, he kicked at the hard ground with a spurred boot, and a cloud of dust lifted and swept away with the raging winds.

He couldn't even see Hermione, and he didn't know if he could trust her anyway. For all he knew, she had found the treasure and left him alone here. It would serve him right, for allowing himself to care about someone who didn't see him the same way.

He would keep a careful eye on her, just to be sure she wasn't trying to pull one over on him, and that would be it.

He caught sight of her, clad all in black but for her curly brown hair, and he pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. Once this was over, he resolved to let go of her for good.

* * *

Draco pulled himself through the screaming winds, thick clouds of dust swirling all around him, attempting to make his way towards the general direction in which he had last seen Hermione.

The windstorm had escalated to the point where he could hardly walk, and he knew it would be in their best interests to retreat for the day.

Thankfully, they had left the horses at the shack to be able to better search on foot, and the beasts would have adequate water and shelter closer to town.

"Hermione!" he shouted, catching sight of her, even as he held his hat to his head with one hand. She turned to the sound of his voice, her eyes squinted in the onslaught of flying dust.

She made her way towards him, dragging herself with effort against the wind, and Draco picked up his pace to catch up to her.

"We ought to go back!" she exclaimed when he reached her, holding onto her own hat, her bandana high on her nose. "We'll never find anything in this storm!"

Draco nodded, gesturing with a shoulder in the direction of the shack. Her shoulders sagged with relief as she nodded. They began their slow return, and Draco tugged on her arm as she struggled with the harsh gusts.

As they walked, Draco noticed her staring at him, her brown eyes meeting his, and Draco forced himself to look away.

"Come on," he growled, tugging harder on the crook of her elbow. "I want to get out of this damn storm."

She nodded, picking up her pace again, and then stumbled to the hard ground. Draco doubled back, reaching for her but she paused, staring at whatever had caught her foot.

There was some sort of protrusion rising from the ground, just enough to have tripped her up.

Draco peered closer, dropping to his knees in the dirt, and sweeping a hand over top. Hermione was staring, too, from her position on the ground and Draco looked up, meeting her questioning gaze.

"It's stone," he muttered, drawing a dagger from its sheath and chipping away at some of the dirt packed on top of it. "The wind must have exposed it."

Her eyes widened and her hands came forward to brush away the earth until the chunk of stone led to another, and Draco shook his head, a breath caught in his throat.

"It's here," she hissed and Draco nodded, glancing her way. He stood, kicking the dirt away from the centre of what appeared to be the beginnings of a stone circle, and a sheet of wood was revealed, covering the opening of a well.

"Search for the cache!" Draco exclaimed, hoping she could hear him over the wind and through the muffled sound of his bandana. "If this dust settles back overtop we could lose it again!"

She nodded, and was immediately up again, kicking at the loose dust, digging with her tools and hands. Draco followed suit, circling out slowly from the location of the well. Oblivious now to the swirling wind and the encroaching dust storm, he prowled for what felt like hours but must not have been that long, until his toe caught on something.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, and she glanced up. He gestured with a wave and she rushed over. "Help me with this."

Between the two of them, they managed to expose what appeared to be a trapdoor covering an innocuous stretch of earth, and Draco's heart was in his throat as they managed to lift it up, despite the howling winds.

He gestured Hermione forward, and she crept through the door as he held it up, then he followed, allowing the door to slam down with a loud clatter.

He descended a small wooden ladder, the still, black silence of the space beneath oddly insidious compared to the raging storm above.

He felt her hand reaching in the darkness and caught it with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I've got a torch in here," he muttered, reaching through his pack for a torch and flint.

Hermione released a soft gasp as the small cavern lit up – it was tall enough for them both to stand comfortably, and the walls were reinforced with wood planks. She tore her bandana down as she gaped around at the small space and Draco did the same, taking several steps away from the ladder.

"Do you think this is the cache?" she whispered, as if afraid to disturb the sudden silence.

"It's _a_ cache," Draco confirmed. "But whether it's the founders'?"

Hermione nodded, creeping forward with a dagger drawn as if she expected to run into trouble. Draco snickered, feeling a smirk tug at his lips even as he stayed by her side.

"Draco," she hissed, dropping to her knees on the hard ground. Draco waved the torch closer, mindful to keep it away from the wooden structure holding up the walls. He crouched alongside her, meeting her gaze as her hands fell onto a black box, toying with the lid. "It's locked."

Draco thrust the torch into her hands, drawing a narrow dagger from its sheath, and angling it into the keyhole of the ornate lock until he heard it click.

Draco huffed a breath as he opened the lid, tucking the dagger away. In the dim light of the torch, Draco could see the sparkle of more gold coins than he had ever seen in his life. Hermione let out a soft gasp and clutched his arm with her free hand, her gaze transfixed on the treasure.

Then she set the torch carefully onto the dirt floor beside her, turning to face him.

"It's here," Draco breathed, turning to stare at her, and her hand was still on his arm. "Hermione –"

She leaned forward, catching his lips with hers, her hands sinking into his hair. Her hat struck his own, and Draco tossed it from her head, pulling her closer as he kissed her, the blood in his veins singing with adrenaline and elation. He pushed her against the wall, pressing into her as his hands drifted to her sides, and when he tore away she was gazing at him, her chest heaving, her face flushed.

"Draco," she choked, grazing his face with her fingers. "The treasure."

"The treasure," he echoed, staring at her lips. Then he met her eyes again and released her, digging a hand into the heavy coins. He shook his head. "I can't _believe_ this has actually been here for so many years."

"It's enough, Draco," she murmured. "To get away from here."

"It's more than enough," he whispered, a grin on his face. She beamed back at him, her eyes lit with excitement and maybe something else.

Draco's fingers caught on something as they grazed the coins, and he drew a small note out from inside the case, the edges tattered and ink nearly faded. He read it out loud.

 _They were following me, so I left the other half in Falcon's Ridge. He will know where to find it._

 _T_

"The other half," Hermione choked, her brow furrowing above wide eyes. "This is _half_?"

"Falcon's Ridge," Draco murmured, raising a brow. "North-northwest of here, about a day and a half's ride."

"But where?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "And who is _he_?"

"Whoever he is, he'd be long gone by now," Draco said with a shrug. He settled on the floor with his legs folded beneath him, gazing at the treasure. "Maybe we never find the other half. Maybe this is enough to last us both the rest of our lives."

"Yes," Hermione breathed, fidgeting with the corner of her bandana. She stared at him for a long moment, chewing her lip. "Draco, I want to come north. With you."

"I thought you didn't want this," Draco murmured, holding her gaze, his eyes narrowed. "I'm done with the games, Hermione."

"No games," she whispered. "I have a hard time trusting people, but the thought of you leaving…" she shook her head, her hand grazing his. Her voice was firm as she said, "I want to come with you."

"Then you're going to have to learn to trust me," Draco said, his brow furrowed, "we'll have to trust each other."

"Yes." She nodded, her grip catching his wrist and drifting to his hand. He caught her fingers within his own. Draco stared at her for a long moment, his mouth dry. Despite everything they had been through, he believed her. He wanted this.

"We'll have to wait out the storm," he said, giving the heavy case a shove with one hand, "and bring the horses."

She nodded, her lips pulling into a smile. "Do you know what this means?"

"It means a fresh start," Draco replied on a breath. "It means… getting away from this town and the violence and –" He cut himself off, shaking his head. It would mean everything. He felt years worth of tension seeping away from his spine at the mere thought.

And if she actually _wanted_ to go with him...

Draco pulled his lip between his teeth as he stared at her, tossing his hat behind him to land with hers. He pushed her back against the wall, catching her lips with a searing kiss. He drew away, his fingers playing with a loose curl.

She stared at him, a wry grin on her lips, and in the dim, flickering light, Draco's breath caught on the sparkle in her eye.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note _:_** Hey friends, thanks for coming along on this fun little journey with me. This is the end of their adventure in Kingswood, although as prefaced in the first chapter, there may be additional parts written about their future adventures in Dust. :) I will be focusing on other things for a while, though, so if I carry on with the next part of Dust there will be a break in between. Let me know what you think! Thanks xoxo

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Once the dust storm settled, Draco climbed the ladder out of the cache; it took some effort to open the old, weather-worn trapdoor, a layer of dirt having settled on top. Hermione followed and he tugged her by the hand from the top rung of the ladder. She snickered as she stumbled, stabilizing herself against his chest.

The afternoon had passed, the beginnings of a golden sunset settling on the western horizon. A few lonely clouds drifted through the sky.

Draco secured the metal pail to the trapdoor with a length of rope, in order to ensure they wouldn't lose track of the door to the cache again, and then marked the location as best he could guess on the survey map.

"We'll get the horses, and come back for the treasure," Draco said, meeting her gaze. "It's too heavy to carry all the way to the shack."

"Right," Hermione said, falling into step beside him as they began the trek back to the distillery shack. Twice, Draco caught her watching him and had to refrain from grabbing her.

He was probably crazy – most assuredly crazy. But he couldn't help but feel like it was a good thing.

That despite the fact that they had struggled to trust one another since they had met – with good reason – Draco still wanted her by his side and watching his back, as he would do for her.

By the time they retrieved the horses and made their way back to the treasure it was nearly dark. It took some effort to haul the treasure from the cache, and they had had to split the gold between their horses in order to carry the load.

They returned to the distillery shack with matching exhilarated grins beneath a sky full of stars.

Draco made sure to store the gold safely inside, in case anyone came across their horses outside and dropped into the grass beside Hermione, gazing up at the clear sky.

"Doesn't this feel familiar?" he asked with a smirk, glancing sidelong at her.

She released the lid from the fourth growler of moonshine with a wry grin, whispering, "Now it does."

Draco planted two mugs on the ground beside her, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. "Can you believe it?" he asked. "We found the treasure – and it was _still_ there."

"That's the part that baffles me," Hermione admitted as she poured two generous measures of the hooch. "That no one before us ever came across the fact that they had buried their gold."

"It doesn't baffle me," Draco said, picking up his glass. "That book was terribly dry. If you hadn't been coveting it, I never would have looked twice at it."

She shot him a look. "The founding of Kingswood was interesting enough." She picked up her own glass, pressing the rim against his. "To the future."

"To the future," Draco echoed but didn't remove his glass. "To a _different_ life, where we aren't on the run and fighting for our lives."

"Where we can settle in one place," she whispered, her gaze meeting his. "Not a different place every night, scrounging for food, sleeping in the grass."

"It's possible," Draco said quietly. "I know it is."

She stared at him for a moment, and Draco read a heavy sort of significance in her eyes. He knew she wanted – as badly as he did, if not more – to believe that something else was out there for them. That they could find it together.

Draco felt a restless twist in his soul.

"To the sunset," Hermione continued, "and traveling far away from this place."

Draco chuckled, "To the sunset."

He clinked their glasses, moonshine sloshing dangerously up the insides, and took a long swig. Hermione did the same, her eyes fixed on his.

"Are we going north?" she asked, setting her glass in the tall brush between her legs.

"We can," Draco said, leaning back on his hands as he stretched his legs out, nudging her. "We can try and find the rest of the treasure if you like – or we can move on altogether. What we found today –" he cut himself off, shaking his head. "That's a _lot_ of gold."

"What are the other options?" Hermione said, taking a sip as her gaze slid to the horizon before them. She quickly added, "Not Sequoia Bluffs."

"Not Sequoia," Draco confirmed. "Too many rival bandits there. It'll be going towards what we're trying to escape. If not north to Falcon's Ridge, we ought to go south through Greendale, or west to Wakefield."

"I went through Wakefield on my way into Kingswood," Hermione said with a shrug. "It isn't a very big town."

"Ultimately," Draco said, taking a swig of his moonshine, "we won't stay in any of these towns, not if we want to get far away from Kingswood. Those are all within a few days' ride. But beyond there, I don't know many towns. It's been so long since I've lived anywhere but around Kingswood."

"You wanted to go north," Hermione said, a musing smile dancing across her lips. "So let's go north and see where we end up."

"North," Draco repeated, a wrinkle to the bridge of his nose. "And if we happen to go through Falcon's Ridge along the way, it couldn't hurt to take a look around."

"Right," Hermione said with a flicker of her brows. "In case we happen to come across any information, you know."

Draco sucked on his teeth and turned to face her, stretching his legs out before him. "I have an old friend in Falcon's Ridge, named Theodore Nott. Last I heard he's the Mayor of the town now."

" _You_ know the Mayor?" Hermione asked with a snicker.

"He isn't like Sherriff Potter, if that's what you're thinking," Draco explained. "He's… never hesitated to turn a blind eye to certain things."

"So you're saying he might be able to help," Hermione said, her words cautious.

"He might," Draco returned.

She said, "I think we ought to go north."

Draco nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek. He flashed her a tight smile. "North it is."

He took a swig of his moonshine, his eyes settling on the cosmic blanket of stars as it fell across the sky, the moon high and shining.

"We should make sure we have enough food packed for a few days on the road," Draco said after a long, comfortable moment of silence. "So long as we can avoid the sheriff, our best bet will be closer to town."

"I wonder if Sheriff Potter pieced it all together," Hermione said with a thoughtful sip from her own mug. "That he had Double-Draw under his nose all these years."

"He might have," Draco said with a shrug. He stretched his legs out before him. "He isn't stupid, and I wouldn't be surprised if he figured out that I was involved with that gang of bandits. In which case, he'll know he was right in your involvement."

Hermione's brows flickered, a curve playing at the corners of her mouth. "Come tomorrow, we'll be long gone from here, anyway, and it won't matter."

"Cheers to that," Draco said with a crooked grin. Her chocolate eyes sparkled in the light of the moon as she pressed her mug to his again, following in to meet his lips in a kiss.

Draco tugged her closer, tossing her hat from her head and burying a hand into her curls as he pulled her onto his lap, her knees gripping his thighs as she settled atop him. Feeling her mug of moonshine slosh onto his shirt, Draco swiped the cup from her and set it beside his in the grass.

He returned his attention to her mouth, his tongue sweeping hers, his teeth catching the flesh of her lower lip. A low growl escaped his throat as she removed his hat and dug her hands into his hair, pressing herself closer to him.

Draco untied her bandana with one hand, grazing the gentle curve of her jaw with his teeth, and his hand slipped down to release the top few buttons of her shirt.

He breathed against her throat, "You aren't planning on leaving before I wake up this time, are you?"

Her eyes were glazed, a quirk to her lips as she said, "Not a chance."

"Good," Draco said, a shiver sweeping down his spine as her hands made short work of his shirt. She pressed herself down against him as she kissed him again, and the action drew a groan from his throat. In a swift movement, Draco stood from the grass, tugging her up with him as he continued his assault on her neck.

"Not the grass this time?" she whispered, and Draco could hear the smile in her voice.

"Not the grass," Draco confirmed. "Not when we have a perfectly good bed inside."

"Of course," Hermione said with a tilt to her head, her hands loosening the dual holsters at his waist. Then she took a step back and removed her own pistol, piling her daggers on the table in the kitchen. Draco snickered, divesting himself of his own weapons.

He tugged her bandana off, slipping loose the remaining buttons of her shirt. Her eyes glowed, heated, as they met his.

Then he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom.

* * *

Hermione cast Double-Draw a sidelong glance as he pulled up beside her on his horse. He returned the look, a smirk curling at a corner of his mouth.

Late the night before, they had finished off the remaining growler of moonshine, half-naked and half-intoxicated, and then slept well past sunrise.

They had spent the majority of the day preparing to leave the vicinity of Kingswood, stocking their bags full of food and extra water skins. And aside from a near run-in with one of the sheriff's guards patrolling the outskirts of town, the day had been successful.

The founders' treasure had been divided between the saddlebags of their horses upon preparation to leave the distillery shack, in search of something unknown – something, they hoped, filled with promise.

Draco's horse sidled closer, and Hermione smiled at the way the failing light of the sun caught in the golden stubble on his jaw, the oranges and pinks of a cloudless sky casting the field before them in a soft, warm light.

And beyond, the hard, dusty earth, the canyons and the dried-up riverbeds – and beyond that, neither of them knew. Beyond that, life would be that they made of it.

The tips of Draco's fingers grazed the back of her hand, rough from years of hard living. Hermione glanced up, turning her hand so his fingers slipped between hers.

"I'm glad you're coming with me," he said, his voice soft as he gazed at the vibrant beauty of the setting sun.

"I'm glad to be coming with you as well," she returned, blinking at him. It was strange, to actually allow someone in.

But the thought of losing him – of driving him away – had been the most frightening thing she could imagine. Things wouldn't be easy – it would take some time and effort for them both to grow used to being together – but this was what she wanted.

He grinned, his grey eyes sparkling with the refracted shades of orange.

Hermione met his gaze again. "There's your sunset."

His smile softened into something that caused a breath to catch in her throat. "My sunset and my girl."

The air was still, the dust settled; the wild expanse stretched in every direction as they ventured out, canyons in the distance. She felt a sort of peace settle in her soul, with which she was unfamiliar.

The trail that led northwest to Falcon's Ridge lay before them, coated in a fresh, untouched layer of dust.

She gave his hand a squeeze and grinned. "Let's see what sort of trouble we can get into."

Double-Draw cast her a quick glance, his tongue flicking out along his bottom lip. He winked and before she knew it he was gone. She cursed under her breath.

Hermione spurred her horse into action, chasing him down, into the sunset.

 _ **TBC...**_


End file.
